
Ill 




ffadDWffniBipiriBoa, 



THE 

BEAUTIES 

OF 

WASHINGTON IRVING, ESQ. 

. AUTHOR OF 

" THE SKETCH BOOK," " BRACEBRIDGE HALL," 
<f TALES OF -A TRAVELLER," &c. 

ILLUSTRATED WITH SIX ETCHINGS, 

By WILLIAM HEATH, ESQ. 
A NEW EDITION. 

(Klaggofo : 

PRINTED FOR RICHARD GRIFFIN & CO. 
64, HUTCHESON STREET. 



MDCCCXXX. 



VISAS': 






ROBERT MALCOLM, PRINTER 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Assem Hac- 

chem, Principal Slave Driver to his Highness the Bashaw of 

Tripoli, - - . . . _ i 

Wouter Van T wilier, -5 

The Grand Council of New -Amsterdam — with reasons why an 

Alderman should be Fat, 10 

An Obedient Hen-pecked Husband, 14 

On Greatness, ----.-.---18 
A warlike Portrait of the great Peter—and how General Von 

Poffenburgh distinguished himself at Fort Casimir, - - 26 
Dirk Schuiler and the valiant Peter, - 35 

The Inn Kitchen, ... 41 

The Spectre Bridegroom, 45 

A Wet Sunday in a Country Inn, ...... 59 

A Desirable Match, 63 

A Rival, -----.-....65 
An Invitation, ----.-..* - - 67 

A Dutch Entertainment, 68 

War, 7! 

English Stage Coachmen, 72 

The Adventure of the Englishman, 74 

The Waltz, ------.._. 80 

Dutch Tea Parties, 81 

Cosmogony, - - ..... ---85 

Dutch Legislators, -91 

The Little Man in Black, - 95 



IV CONTENTS. 

Page 

My Aunt Chanty, 102 

Will Wizard, - 108 

Style, 113 

Fienchmen, ----- - . ----116 

The Wife, - - 117 

To Anthony Evergreen, Gent., ------- 124 

Showing the Nature of History in General,— furthermore, the 
Universal Acquirements of William the Testy, and how a man 
may learn so much as to render himself good for nothing, 125 
Tea, a Poem, --..------134 

Description of the powerful Army that assembled at the City of 
New-Amsterdam— together with the Interview between Peter 
the Headstrong and General Von Poffenburgh, and Peter's 
sentiments respecting Unfortunate Great Men, - - - 138 
Of Peter Stuy vesanfs Expedition into the East Country, show- 
ing that though an Old Bird, he did not understand Trap, 143 
How the People of New- Amsterdam were thrown into a great 
Panic by the news of a threatened Invasion, and the manner 
in which they fortified themselves, ------ 152 

The troubles of New- Amsterdam appear to thicken, showing 
the bravery in time of peril of a People who defend themselves 
by Resolutions, ---------- 155 

The Widow and her Son, - 163 

Storm at Sea, 170 

John Bull, - - - 171 

Consequence, ----- -----182 

The Cockloft Family, - - 183 

Conversion of the Americans, ------- 193 

Tom Straddle, - 196 

Sleepy Hollow, ---- 202 

Ichabod Crane, 205 

Superstition, 208 

The Broken Heart, ----- - - - 209 

A Wreck at Sea, -217 

Land, - - - 219 

Genius, - 220 

A Contrast, ------ ----- 221 

Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Assem Hac- 
chem, Principal Slave Driver to his Highness the Bashaw of 
Tripoli, ........... jB| 

Poetry, from Salmagundi, ........ 232 

Mine Uncle John, -.--.-... 257 



CONTENTS. V 

Page 

Bool; Making, - - 243 

A Dutch Settler's Dream, 248 

The Pride of the,Village, 249 

Domestic Scene, ---------- 259 

Master Simon, - ib. 

Perseverance, 260 

Doleful Disaster of Anthony the Trumpeter, .... ib. 

The Grief of Peter Stuyvesant, 62 

The Dignified Retirement and Mortal Surrender of Peter the 
Headstrong, .... ... - 263 

Morning, 269 

The Author's Account of his History of New- York, - - ib 

Westminster Abbey, - ..-.--. 270 

Master Henry Hudson, 272 

Master Robert Juet, 273 

A Dutch Voyage of Discovery, ------- 274 

Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-Dub Keli Khan to Assem Hao 
chem, Principal Slave-Driver to his Highness the Bashaw of 

Tripoli, 275 

Autumnal Reflections, .-.----- 281 

The Family of the Lambs, 286 

First Landing of Columbus in the New World, - - - 289 
Ichabod Crane and the Galloping Hessian, .... 294 
How Peter Stuyvesant relieved the Sovereign People from the 
burden of taking care of the Nation— with sundry particulars 

of his conduct in time of Peace, 301 

Showing the great difficulty Philosophers have had in peopling 
America— and how the Aborigines came to be begotten by Ac- 
cident, to the great relief and satisfaction of the Author - 310 



PREFACE. 



There are few living authors that are more de- 
servedly popular than Washington Irving, and if any- 
proof were wanting of the general estimation in which 
he is held, the Publishers of the present volume might 
refer with pleasure to the extensive patronage conferred 
on their former editions. 

In selecting the following pieces from the various 
productions of the accomplished American, the Com- 
piler, though necessarily restricted to economy of space, 
has been careful to consult the reputation of his author, 
as well as the interest and pleasure of his readers. 
If he has not in every instance exercised the soundest 
discretion, he can at least aver, that he is unconscious 
of having omitted any thing that could contribute to 
place the fine talents of Irving in the most favourable 
point of view that was possible. 

It has been said of the latter, that he rivals and even 
excels some of the most popular English authors, par- 
ticularly Addison, Goldsmith, and Mackenzie. The 
present selections, if they do not completely decide the 
point, will at least enable the reader to draw an accu- 



VUl PREFACE. 

rate parallel between him and those celebrated classical 
writers. 

With a view to afford sufficient scope for the talents 
of the Engraver, it was necessary to give rather a pre- 
ponderance to humorous subjects; but generally speak- 
ing, it will be found that the collection is sufficiently 
miscellaneous, both to display Irving's varied talents as 
an author, and to gratify, even to satiety, the lovers of the 
grave and the pathetic, as well as every amateur of 
elegant composition. In short, although it is not for 
the Publishers to determine the merit of their own 
work, they think they may flatter themselves, that, 
making due allowance for the narrow limits of a pocket 
volume, they have done as much justice to their author 
as if the volume had been got up on a far more ambitious 
and extensive scale. 



BEAUTIES 



OF 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



LETTER 

FROM MUSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELI KHAN, 

Captain of a Ketch, to Assem Hacchem, principal Slave- 
driver to his Highness the Bashaw of Tripoli. 

Thou wilt learn from this letter, most illustrious dis- 
ciple of Mahomet, that I have for some time resided in 
New- York, the most polished, vast, and magnificent 

city of the United States of America But what to me 

are its delights ! I wander a captive through its splen- 
did streets ; I turn a heavy eye on every rising day that 
beholds me banished from my country. The Christian 
husbands here lament most bitterly any short absence 
from home, though they leave but one wife behind to 
lament their departure ; — what then must be the feelings 
of thy unhappy kinsman, while thus lingering at an im- 
measurable distance from three-and-twenty of the most 
lovely and obedient wives in all Tripoli ! Oh, Allah ! 
shall thy servant never again return to his native land, 
nor behold his beloved wives, who beam on his memory 
beautiful as the rosy morn of the East, and graceful as 
Mahomet's camel ! 

Yet beautiful, oh, most puissant slave-driver, as are 
my wives, they are far exceeded by the women of this 
country. Even those who run about the streets with 
bare arms and necks fet cetera J, whose habiliments are 



"d BEAUTIES OF 

too scanty to protect them either from the inclemency of 
the seasons, or the scrutinizing glances of the curious, 
and who, it would seem, belong to nobody, are lovely as 
the houris that people the elysium of true believers. If, 
then, such as run wild in the highways, and whom no 
one cares to appropriate, are thus beauteous ; what must 
be the charms of those who are shut up in the seraglios, 
and never permitted to go abroad ! Surely the region of 
beauty, the valley of the graces, can contain nothing so 
inimitably fair ! 

But, notwithstanding the charms of these infidel wo- 
men, they are apt to have one fault, which is extremely 
troublesome and inconvenient. Wouldst thou believe it, 
Assem, I have been positively assured by a famous der- 
vise (or doctor as he is here called), that at least one-fifth 
of them — have souls ! Incredible as it may seem to thee, 
I am the more inclined to believe them in possession 
of this monstrous superfluity, from my own little ex- 
perience, and from the information which I have de- 
rived from others. In walking the streets I have actu- 
ally seen an exceeding good-looking woman with soul 
enough to box her husband's ears to his heart's content, 
and my very whiskers trembled with indignation at the 
abject state of these wretched infidels. I am told, more- 
over, that some of the women have soul enough to usurp 
the breeches of the men, but these I suppose are married 
and kept close ; for I have not, in my rambles, met 
with any so extravagantly accoutred ; others, I am in- 
formed, have soul enough to swear ! — yea ! by the beard 
of the great Omar, who prayed three times to each of 
the one hundred and twenty-four thousand prophets of 
our most holy faith, and who never swore but once in 
his life — they actually swear ! 

Get thee to the mosque, good Assem ! return thanks to 
our most holy prophet that he has been thus mindful of 
the comfort of all true Mussulmen, and has given them 
wives with no more souls than cats and dogs, and other 
necessary animals of the household. 

Thou wilt doubtless be anxious to learn our reception 
in this country, and how we were treated by a people 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 3 

whom we have been accustomed to consider as unen- 
lightened barbarians. 

On landing, we were waited upon to our lodgings, I 
suppose according to the directions of the municipality, 
by a vast and respectable escort of boys and negroes, who 
shouted and threw up their hats, doubtless to do honour 
to the magnanimous Mustapha, captain of a ketch ; they 
were somewhat ragged and dirty in their equipments, 
but this was attributed to their republican simplicity. 
One of them, in the zeal of admiration, threw an old 
shoe, which gave thy friend rather an ungentle saluta- 
tion on one side of the head, whereat I was not a little 
offended, until the interpreter informed us that this was 
the customary manner in which great men were honoured 
in this country ; and that the more distinguished they 
were, the more they were subjected to the attacks and 
peltings of the mob. Upon this I bowed my head three 
times, with my hands to my turban, and made a speech 
in Arabic Greek, which gave great satisfaction, and 
occasioned a shower of old shoes, hats, and so forth, 
which was exceedingly refreshing to us all. 

Thou wilt not as yet expect that I should give thee 
an account of the laws and politics of this country. I 
will reserve them for some future letter, when I shall 
be more experienced in their complicated and seemingly 
contradictory nature. 

This empire is governed by a grand and most puissant 
bashaw, whom they dignify with the title of President. 
He is chosen by persons who are chosen by an assembly, 
elected by the people — hence the mob is called the sove- 
reign people — arid the country, free ; the body politic 
doubtless resembling a vessel, which is best governed by 
its tail. The present bashaw is a very plain old gentleman 
— something, they say, of a humourist, as he amuses him- 
self with impairing butterflies and pickling tadpoles ; he 
is rather declining in popularity, having given great of- 
fence by wearing red breeches, and tying his horse to a 
post. The people of the United States have assured me 
that they themselves are the most enlightened nation 
under the sun ; but thou knowest that the barbarians of 



4 BEAUTIES OF 

the desert, who assemble at the summer solstice, to shoot 
their arrows at the glorious luminary, in order to extin- 
guish its burning rays, make precisely the same boast ; 
— which of them have the superior claim, I shall not 
attempt to decide. 

I have observed with some degree of surprise, that 
the men in this country do not seem in haste to accom- 
modate themselves even with a single wife which alone 
the laws permit them to marry ; this backwardness is 
probably owing to the misfortune of their absolutely 
having no female mutes among them. Thou knowest 
how invaluable are these silent companions; what a 
price is given for them in the East, and what entertain- 
ing wives they make. What delightful entertainment 
arises from Jjeholding the silent eloquence of their signs 
and gestureajtout a wife possessed both of a tongue and 
a soul — morMrcms ! monstrous ! It is astonishing that 
these unhappy infldelsM should shrink from a union with 
a woman so preposterously endowed ! 

Thou hast doubtle* read in the words of Abel Faraj, 
the Arabian historian, the tradition which mentions that 
the muses were once upon the point of falling together 
by the ears about the admission of a tenth among their 
number, until she assured them, by signs, that she was 
dumb ; whereupon they received her with great rejoic- 
ing. I should, perhaps, inform thee, that there are but 
nine Christian muses, who were formerly Pagans, but 
have since been converted, and that in this country we 
never hear of a tenth, unless some crazy poet wishes to 
pay an hyperbolical compliment to his mistress; on 
which occasion it goes hard but she figures as a tenth 
muse, or fourth grace, even though she should be more 
illiterate than a Hottentot, and more ungraceful than a 
dancing bear ! Since my arrival in this country, I have 
met not less than a hundred of these supernumerary 
muses and graces — and may Allah preserve me from ever 
meeting any more. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



WOUTER VAN TWILLER. 

The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was 
descended from along line of Dutch burgomasters, who 
had successively dozed away their lives, and grown fat 
upon the bench of magistracy in Rotterdam ; and who 
had comported themselves with such singular wisdom 
and propriety that they were never either heard or 
talked of — which, next to being universally applauded, 
should be the object of ambition to all sage magistrates 
and rulers. 

His surname of Twiller is said to be a corruption of 
the original Twijfler, which in English means doubter ; 
a name admirably descriptive of his deliberative habits. 
For though he was a man shut up within himself like 
an oyster, and of such a profoundly reflective turn that 
he scarcely ever spoke except in monosyllables ; yet did 
he never make up his mind on any doubtful point. 
This was clearly accounted for by his adherents, who 
affirmed that he always conceived every subject on so 
comprehensive a scale that he had not room in his head 
to turn it over and examine both sides of it ; so that he 
always remained in doubt, merely in consequence of the 
astonishing magnitude of his ideas ! 

There are two opposite ways by which some men get 
into notice — one by talking a vast deal and thinking a 
little, and the other by holding their tongues and not 
thinking at all. By the first, many a vapouring super- 
ficial pretender acquires the reputation of a man of 
quick parts — by the other, many a vacant dunderpate, 
like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to be compli- 
mented by a discerning world, with all the attributes of 
wisdom. This, by the way, is a mere casual remark, 
which I would not for the universe have it thought I 
apply to Governor Van Twiller. On the contrary, he 
was a very wise Dutchman, for he never said a foolish 
thing ; and of such invincible gravity that he was never 
known to laugh or even to smile, through the course of 
a long and prosperous life. Certain, however, it is, 
a 2 



b BEAUTIES OF 

there never was a matter proposed, however simple, 
and on which your common narrow minded mortals 
would rashly determine at the first glance, but what the 
renowned Wouter put on a mighty mysterious, vacant 
kind of look, shook his capacious head, and having 
smoked for five minutes with redoubled earnestness, 
sagely observed, that " he had his doubts about the 
matter," — which, in process of time, gained him the 
character of a man slow in belief, and not easily im- 
posed on. 

The person of this illustrious old gentleman was as 
regularly formed, and nobly proportioned, as though it 
had been moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch 
statuary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. 
He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six 
feet five inches in circumference. His head was a per- 
fect sphere, far excelling in magnitude that of the great 
Pericles (who was thence waggishly called Schenocepha- 
lus, or onion head) — indeed, of such stupendous dimen- 
sions was it, that dame Nature herself, with all her sex's 
ingenuity, would have been puzzled to construct a neck 
capable of supporting it ; wherefore she wisely declined 
the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of his back- 
bone, just between the shoulders ; where it remained, 
as snugly bedded as a ship of war in the mud of Po- 
towmac. His body was of an oblong form, particularly 
capacious at bottom ; which was wisely ordered by 
providence, seeing that he was a man of sedentary 
habits, and very averse to the idle labour of walking. 
His legs, though exceeding short, were sturdy in pro- 
portion to the weight they had to sustain ; so that when 
erect he had not a little the appearance of a robustious 
beer barrel, standing on skids. His face, that infallible 
index of the mind, presented a vast expanse perfectly 
unforrowed or deformed by any of those lines and 
angles which disfigure the human countenance with 
what is termed expression. Two small grey eyes 
twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser 
magnitude, in a hazy firmament ; and his full-fed cheeks 
which seemed to have taken toll of every thing that 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 7 

went into his mouth, were curiously mottled and 
streaked with dusky red, like a Spitzenberg apple. 

His habits were as regular as his person. He daily 
took his four stated meals, appropriating exactly an 
hour to each ; he smoked and doubted eight hours, and 
he slept the remaining twelve of the four-and-twenty. 
Such was the renowned Wouter Van Twiller — a true 
philosopher, for his mind was either elevated above, or 
tranquilly settled below, the cares and perplexities of 
this world. He had lived in it for years, without feel- 
ing the least curiosity to know whether the sun revolved 
round it, or it round the sun ; and he had even watched 
for at least half a century, the smoke curling from his 
pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling his head 
with any of those numerous theories by which a philo- 
sopher would have perplexed his brain, in accounting 
for its rising above the surrounding atmosphere. 

In his council he presided with great state and solem- 
nity. He sat in a huge chair of solid oak, hewn in the 
celebrated forest of the Hague, fabricated by an experi- 
enced Timmerman of Amsterdam, and curiously carved 
about the arms and feet, into exact imitations of gigan- 
tic eagles' claws. Instead of a sceptre, he swayed a 
long Turkish pipe, wrought with jasmin and amber, 
which had been presented to a stadtholder of Holland, 
at the conclusion of a treaty with one of the petty Bar- 
bary powers. In this stately chair would he sit, and 
this magnificent pipe would he smoke, shaking his right 
knee with a constant motion, and fixing his eyes for 
hours together upon a little print of Amsterdam, which 
hung in a black frame against the opposite wall of the 
council chamber. Nay, it has even been said, that 
when any deliberation of extraordinary length and in- 
tricacy was on the carpet, the renowned Wouter would 
absolutely shut his eyes for full two hours at a time, 
that he might not be disturbed by external objects ; and 
at such times the internal commotion of his mind was 
evinced by certain regular guttural sounds which his 
admirers declared were merely the noise of conflict 
made by his contending doubts and opinions. 



8 BEAUTIES OF 

It is with infinite difficulty, I have been enabled to 
collect these biographical anecdotes of the great man 
under consideration. The facts respecting him were 
so scattered and vague, and divers of them so question- 
able in point of authenticity, that I have had to give up 
the search after many, and decline the admission of 
still more, which would have tended to heighten the 
colouring of his portrait. 

I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the 
person and habits of the renowned Van Twiller, from 
the consideration that he was not only the first, but 
also the best governor that ever presided over this an- 
cient and respectable province ; and so tranquil and 
benevolent was his reign that I do not find, throughout 
the whole of it, a single instance of any offender being 
brought to punishment ; — a most indubitable sign of a 
merciful governor, and a case unparalleled, excepting in 
the reign of the illustrious King Log, from whom, it is 
hinted, the renowned Van Twiller was a lineal des- 
cendant. 

The very outset of the career of this excellent magis- 
trate, like that of Solomon, or to speak more appropri- 
ately, like that of the illustrious governor of Barataria, 
was distinguished by an example of legal acumen, that 
gave flattering presage of a wise and equitable adminis- 
tration. The very morning after he had been solemn- 
ly installed in office, and at the moment that he was 
making his breakfast from a prodigious earthen dish, 
filled with milk and Indian pudding, he was suddenly 
interrupted by the appearance of one Wandle Schoon- 
hoven, a very important old burgher of New- Amster- 
dam, who complained bitterly of one Barent Bleecker, 
inasmuch as he fraudulently refused to come to a settle- 
ment of accounts, seeing that there was a heavy balance 
in favour of the said Wandle. Governor Van Twil- 
ler, as I have already observed, was a man of few 
words ; he was likewise a mortal enemy to multiplying 
writings, or being disturbed at his breakfast. Having 
listened attentively to the statement of Wandle Schoon- 
hoven, giving an occasional grunt, as he shovelled a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. V 

mighty spoonful of Indian pudding into his mouth — 
either as a sign that he relished the dish, or compre- 
hended the story : he called unto him his constable, 
and pulling out of his breeches pocket a huge jack- 
knife, despatched it after the defendant as a summons, 
accompanied by his tobacco box as a warrant. 

This summary process was as effectual in those sim- 
ple days as was the seal ring of the great Haroun Al- 
raschid among the true believers. The two parties, 
being confronted before him, each produced a book of 
accounts, written in a language and character that 
would have puzzled any but a high Dutch commenta- 
tor, or a learned decipherer of Egyptian obelisks to 
understand. The sage Wouter took them one after 
the other, and having poised them in his hands, and 
attentively counted over the number of leaves, fell 
straightway into a very great doubt, and smoked for 
half an hour without saying a word ; at length, laying 
his finger beside his nose, and shutting his eyes for a 
moment, with the air of a man who has j ust caught a 
subtle idea by the tail, he slowly took his pipe from 
his mouth, puffed forth a column of tobacco smoked, 
and with marvellous gravity and solemnity pronounced 
— that having carefully counted over the leaves, and 
weighed the books, it was found that one was just as 
thick and as heavy as the other — therefore it was the 
final opinion of the court, that the accounts were equal- 
ly balanced — therefore Wandle should give Barent a 
receipt, and Barent should give Wandle a receipt — and 
the constable should pay the costs. 

This decision being straightway made known, dif- 
fused general joy throughout New- Amsterdam ; for 
the people immediately perceived, that they had a very 
wise and equitable magistrate to rule over them. But 
its happiest effect was, that not another lawsuit took 
place throughout the whole of his administration ; and 
the office of constable fell into such decay, that there was 
not one of those losel scouts known in the province for 
many years. I am the more particular in dwelling on 
this transaction, not only because I deem it one of the 



10 BEAUTIES OF 

most sage and righteous judgments on record, and well 
worthy the attention of modern magistrates, but be- 
cause it was a miraculous event in the history of the 
renowned Wouter — being the only time he was ever 
known to come to a decision in the whole course of his 
life. 



The Grand Council of New-Amsterdam — with Reasons 
why an Alderman should be Fat, 

To assist the doubtful Wouter in the arduous business of 
legislation, a board of magistrates was appointed, which 
presided immediately over the police. This potent body 
consisted of a scout or bailiff, with powers between those 
of the present mayor and sheriff; five burgermeesters, 
who were equivalent to aldermen ; and five schepens, 
who officiated as scrubs, sub-devils, or bottle-holders, to 
the burgermeesters, in the same manner as do assistant 
aldermen to their principals at the present day — it being 
their duty to fill the pipes of the lordly burgermeesters, 
hunt the markets for delicacies for corporation dinners, 
and to discharge such other little offices of kindness as 
were occasionally required. It was, moreover, tacitly 
understood, though not specifically enjoined, that they 
should consider themselves as butts for the blunt wits 
of the burgermeesters, and should laugh most heartily 
at all their jokes ; but this last was a duty as rarely called 
into action in those days asitis at present, and was shortly 
remitted, in consequence of the tragical death of a fat 
little schepen, who actually died of suffocation in an 
unsuccessful effort to force a laugh at one of burger- 
meester Van Zandt's best jokes. 

In return for these humble services, they were per- 
mitted to say, yes and no at the council board, and to have 
that enviable privilege, the run of the public kitchen ; 
being graciously permitted to eat, and drink, and smoke, 
at all those snug junkettings, and public gormandizings, 
for which the ancient magistrates were equally famous 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 11 

with their more modern successors. The post of sche- 
pen, therefore, like that of assistant alderman, was 
eagerly coveted by all your burghers of a certain de- 
scription, who have a huge relish for good feeding, and 
an humble ambition to be great men in a small way — 
who thirst after a little brief authority, that shall render 
them the terror of the alms-house and the bridewell — 
that shall enable them to lord it over obsequious pover- 
ty, vagrant vice, outcast prostitution, and hunger-driven 
dishonesty — that shall place in their hands the lesser, 
but galling scourge of the law, and give to their beck a 
houndlike pack of catchpoles and bum-bailiffs — tenfold 
greater rogues than the culprits they hunt down ! — My 
readers will excuse this sudden warmth, which I confess 
is unbecoming of a grave historian ; but I have a mortal 
antipathy to catchpoles, bum-bailiffs, and little great 
men. 

The ancient magistrates of this city corresponded with 
those of the present time no less in form, magnitude, and 
intellect, than in prerogative and privilege. The burgo- 
masters, like our aldermen, were generally chosen by 
weight ; and not only the weight of the body, but like- 
wise the weight of the head. It is a maxim practically 
observed in all honest, plain thinking, regular cities, 
that an alderman should be fat — and the wisdom of this 
can be proved to a certainty. That the body is in some 
measure an image of the mind, or rather that the mind 
is moulded to the body, like melted lead to the clay in 
which it is cast, has been insisted on by many men of 
science, who have made human nature their peculiar 
study. For as a learned gentleman of our own city 
observes, "there is a constant relation between the 
moral character of all intelligent creatures and their 
physical constitution — between their habits and the 
structure of their bodies." Thus we see, that a lean, 
spare, diminutive body is generally accompanied by a 
petulent, restless, meddling mind. Either the mind 
wears down the body by its continual motion ; or else 
the body, not affording the mind sufficient house-room, 
keeps it continually in a state of fretfulness, tossing and 



12 BEAUTIES OF 

worrying about, from the uneasiness of its situation. 
Whereas your round, sleek, fat, unwieldy periphery is 
ever attended by a mind like itself, tranquil, torpid, and 
at ease ; and we may always observe, that your well-fed, 
robustious burghers are in general very tenacious of their 
ease and comfort ; being great enemies to noise, discord, 
and disturbance : and surely none are more likely to 
study the public tranquillity than those who are so care- 
ful of their own. Who ever hears of fat men heading 
a riot, or herding together in turbulent mobs? — No — 
no — it is your lean, hungry men, who are continually 
worrying society, an.d setting the whole community by 
the ears. 

The divine Plato, whose doctrines are not sufficiently 
attended to by Philosophers of the present age, allows 
to every man three souls : one immortal and rational, 
seated in the brain, that it may overlook and regulate 
the body — a second consisting of the surly and irascible 
passions, which, like belligerent powers, lie encamped 
around the heart — a third mortal and sensual, destitute 
of reason, gross and brutal in its propensities, and en- 
chained in the belly, that it may not disturb the divine 
soul, by its ravenous howlings. Now, according to this 
excellent theory, what can be more clear, than that 
your fat alderman is most likely to have the most regu- 
lar and well conditioned mind. His head is like a 
huge spherical chamber, containing a prodigious mass 
of soft brains, whereon the rational soul lies softly and 
snugly couched, as on a feather bed; and the eyes, 
which are the windows of the bed-chamber, are usually 
half closed, that its slumberings may not be disturbed 
by external objects. A mind thus comfortably lodged, 
and protected from disturbance, is manifestly most 
likely to perform its functions with regularity and ease. 
By dint of good feeding, moreover, the mortal and 
malignant soul, which is confined in the belly, and which, 
by its raging and roaring, puts the irritable soul in the 
neighbourhood of the heart in an intolerable passion, 
and thus renders men crusty and quarrelsome when 
hungry — is completely pacified, silenced, and put to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 13 

rest : whereupon a host of honest good-fellow qualities, 
and kindhearted affections, which had lain in perdue, 
slily peeping out of the loopholes of the heart, rinding 
this Cerberus asleep, do pluck up their spirits, turn 
out one and all in their holiday suits, and gambol up 
and down the diaphraghm — disposing their possessor to 
laughter, good humour, and a thousand friendly offices 
towards his fellow mortals. 

As a board of magistrates, formed on this model, 
think but very little, they are less likely to differ and 
wrangle about favourite opinions ; and as they generally 
transact business upon a hearty dinner, they are naturally 
disposed to be lenient and indulgent in the administra- 
tion of their duties. Charlemagne was conscious of 
this, and therefore (a pitiful measure, for which I can 
never forgive him,) ordered in his cartularies, that no 
judge should hold a court of justice, except in the 
morning, on an empty stomach. — A rule which, I war- 
rant, bore hard upon all the poor culprits in his king- 
dom. The more enlightened and humane generation 
of the present day have taken an opposite course, and 
have so managed that the aldermen are the best fed men 
in the community ; feasting lustily on the fat things of 
the land, and gorging so heartily oysters and turtles, 
that in process of time they acquire the activity of the 
one, and the form, the waddle, and the green fat of the 
other. The consequence is, as I have just said, these 
luxurious feastings do produce such dulcet equanimity 
and repose of the soul, rational and irrational, that their 
transactions are proverbial for unvarying monotony; 
and the profound laws, which they enact in their dozing 
moments, amid the labours of digestion, are quietly 
suffered to remain as dead letters, and never enforced 
when awake. In a word, your fair round bellied bur- 
gomaster, like a full fed mastiff, dozes quietly at the 
house door, always at home, and always at hand to watch 
over its safety: but as to electing a lean, meddling 
candidate to the office, as has now and then been done, I 
would as lief put a greyhound to watch the house, or a 
race-horse to drag an ox-waggon. 

B 



14 BEAUTIES OF 

The burgomasters then, as I have already mentioned, 
were wisely chosen by weight, and the schepens or as- 
sistant aldermen, were appointed to attend upon them, 
and help them to eat ; but the latter, in the course of 
time, when they had been fed and fattened into suffi- 
cient bulk of body and drowsiness of brain, became 
very eligible candidates for the burgomasters' chair ; 
have fairly eaten themselves into office, as a mouse eats 
its way into a comfortable lodgment in a goodly blue 
nosed, skimmed milk, New- England cheese. 



AN OBEDIENT HEN-PECKED HUSHAND. 

In that same village, and in one of these very houses, 
(which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn 
and weather beaten, ) there lived many years since, when 
the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a sim- 
ple good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Win- 
kle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who 
figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuy- 
vesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort Chris- 
tina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial 
character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was 
a simple good-natured man ; he was, moreover, a kind 
neighbour, and an obedient hen-pecked husband. In- 
deed, to the latter circumstance might be owing that 
meekness of spirit which gained him such universal 
popularity ; for those men are most apt to be obsequious 
and conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of 
shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are render- 
ed pliant and maleable in the fiery furnace of domestic 
tribulation, and a curtain lecture is worth all the ser- 
mons in the world for teaching the virtues of patience 
and long suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, 
in some respects, be considered a tolerable blessing ; 
and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. 

Certain it is, that he was a great favourite among all 
the good wives of the village, who, as usual with the ami- 







-^?W^' 



Rip Van WfaMe 



GLASGOW: GUIFJ C2T & CF lf\29 • 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 15 

able sex, took his part in all family squabbles ; and never 
failed, whenever they talked those matters over in their 
evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van 
Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout 
with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at their 
sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly kites 
and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, 
witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about 
the village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hang- 
ing on his skirts, clambering on his back, and playing a 
thousand tricks on him with impunity ; and not a dog 
would bark at him throughout the neighbourhood. 

The great error in Rip's composition was an insuper- 
able aversion to all kinds of profitable labour. It could 
not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for 
he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and hea- 
vy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a mur 
mm*, even though he should not be encouraged by a sin- 
gle nibble. He would carry a fowling piece on his 
shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods and 
swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squir- 
rels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a 
neighbour even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost 
man at all country frolics for husking Indian corn, or 
building stone fences ; the women of the village, too, used 
to employ him to run their errands, and to do such little 
odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for 
them. — In a word, Rip was ready to attend to any 
body's business but his own ; but as to doing family duty, 
and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. 

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his 
farm; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in 
the whole country ; every thing about it went wrong, 
and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were 
continually falling to pieces ; his cow would either go as- 
tray, or get among the cabbages ; weeds were sure to 
grow quicker in his field than any where else ; the rain 
always made a point of setting in just as he had some 
out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial 
estate had dwindled away under his management, acre 



16 BEAUTIES OF 

by acre, until there was little more left than a mere 
patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worse 
conditioned farm in the neighbourhood. 

His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they 
belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten 
in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits with 
the old clothes of his father. He was generally seen 
trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a 
pair of his father's cast off galligaskins, which he had 
much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does 
her train in bad weather. 

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy 
mortals, of foolish, well oiled dispositions, who take the 
world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be 
got with least thought or trouble, and would rather 
starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to 
himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect con- 
tentment ; but his wife kept continually dinning in his 
ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he 
was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night, 
her tongue was incessantly going, and every thing he said 
or did was sure to produce a torrent of household elo- 
quence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures 
of the kind, and that, by frequent use, had got into a 
habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast 
up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always 
provpked a fresh volley from his wife ; so that he was 
fain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of the 
house — the only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen- 
pecked husband. 

Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who 
was as much hen-pecked as his master ; for Dame Van 
Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and 
even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of 
his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all 
points of spirit befitting an honourable dog, he was as 
courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods — but 
what courage can withstand the ever-during and all be- 
setting terrors of a woman's tongue? The moment 
Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 17 

the ground or curled between his legs, he sneaked about 
with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at 
Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broom- 
stick or ladle, he would fly to the door with yelping 
precipitation. 

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle 
as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never 
mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged 
tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long 
while he used to console himself, when driven from 
home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sa- 
ges, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village ; 
which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, de- 
signated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George 
the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade, of a 
long lazy summer's day, talking listlessly over village 
gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. 
But it would have been worth any statesman's money 
to have heard the profound discussions that sometimes 
took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into 
their hands from some passing traveller. How solemn- 
ly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by 
Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learn- 
ed little man, who was not to be daunted by the most 
gigantic word in the dictionary ; and how sagely they 
would deliberate upon public events some months after 
they had taken place. 

The opinions of this j^mto were completely controlled 
by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and land- 
lord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat 
from morning till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid 
the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the 
neighbours could tell the hour by his movements as ac- 
curately as by a sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard 
to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His adhe- 
rents, however, (for every great man has his adherents,) 
perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his 
opinions. When any thing that was read or related dis- 
pleased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehe- 
mently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry 
b2 



18 BEAUTIES OF 

puffs ; but when pleased, he would enhale the smoke 
slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid 
clouds ; and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, 
and letting the fragrant vapour curl about his nose, would 
gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. 

From even this strong hold the unlucky Rip was at 
length routed by his termagant wife, who would sudden- 
ly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and 
call the members all to nought ; nor was that august per- 
sonage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring 
tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him outright 
with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness. 

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and 
his only alternative, to escape from the labour of the farm 
and clamour of his wife, was to take gun in hand and 
stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes 
seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents 
of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathised as a 
fellow-sufferer in persecution. " Poor wolf," he would 
say, "thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it; but never 
mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a 
friend to stand by thee !" Wolf would wag his tail, 
look wistfully in his master's face, and if dogs can feel 
pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with 
all his heart. 



ON GREATNESS. 

We have more than once in the course of our work, 
been most jocosely familiar with great personages ; and, 
in truth, treated them with as little ceremony, respect, 
and consideration, as if they had been our most particu- 
lar friends. Now we would not suffer the mortification 
of having our readers even suspect us of an intimacy of 
the kind ; assuring them we are extremely choice in 
our intimates, and uncommonly circumspect in avoiding 
connections with all doubtful characters ; particularly 
pimps, bailiffs, lottery-brokers, chevaliers of industry, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 19 

and great men. The world in general is pretty well 
aware of what is to be understood by the former classes 
of delinquents ; but as the latter has never, I believe, 
been specifically defined, and as we are -determined to 
instruct our readers to the extent of our abilities, and 
their limited comprehension, it may not be amiss here 
to let them know what we understand by a great man. 

First, therefore, let us (editors and kings are always 
plural) premise, that there are two kinds of greatness ; 
— one conferred by Heaven — the exalted nobility of the 
soul; — the other, a spurious distinction, engendered by 
the mob, and lavished upon its favourites. The former 
of these distinctions we have already contemplated with 
reverence ; the latter we will take this opportunity to 
strip naked before our unenlightened readers ; so that if 
by chance any of them are held in ignominious thral- 
dom by this base circulation of false coin, they may 
forthwith emancipate themselves from such inglorious 
delusion. 

It is a fictitious value given to individuals by public 
caprice, as bankers give an impression to a worthless 
slip of paper, thereby giving it a currency for infinitely 
more than its intrinsic value. Every nation has its 
peculiar coin, and peculiar great men; neither of which 
will, for the most part, pass current out of the country 
where they are stamped. Your true mob-created great 
man is like a note of one of the little New- England 
banks, and his value depreciates in proportion to the 
distance from home. In England, a great man is he 
who has most ribands and gew-gaws on his coat, most 
horses in his carriage, most slaves in his retinue, or most 
toad-eaters at his table ; in France, he who can most 
dexterously flourish his heels above his head — Duport 
is most incontestibly the greatest man in France ! — 
when the Emperor is absent. The greatest man in 
China is he who can trace his ancestry up to the moon ; 
and in this country our great men may generally hunt 
down their pedigree imtil it burrows in the dirt like a 
rabbit. To be concise ; our great men are those who 
are most expert at crawling on all-fours, and have the 



20 BEAUTIES OF 

happiest facility in dragging and winding themselves 
along in the dirt like very reptiles. This may seem a 
paradox to many of my readers, who with great good 
nature be it hinted, are too stupid to look beyond the 
mere surface of our invaluable writings ; and often pass 
over the knowing allusion, and poignant meaning, that 
is slyly couching beneath. It is for the benefit of such 
helpless ignorants, who have no other creed but the opi- 
nion of the mob, that I shall trace, as far as it is possi- 
ble to follow him in his ascent from insignificance, — 
the rise, progress, and completion of a little great man. 

In a logocracy, to use the sage Mustapha's phrase, it 
is not absolutely necessary to the formation of a great 
man that he should be either wise or valiant, upright or 
honourable. On the contrary, daily experience shows 
that these qualities rather impede his preferment, inas- 
much as they are prone to render him too inflexibly 
erect, and are directly at variance with that willowy 
suppleness which enables a man to wind, and twist, 
through all the nooks and turns and dark winding pas- 
sages that lead to greatness. The grand requisite for 
climbing the rugged hill of popularity, — the summit of 
which is the seat of power, — is to be useful. And here 
once more, for the sake of our readers, who are of course 
not so wise as ourselves, I must explain what we under- 
stand by usefulness. The horse, in his native state, is 
wild, swift impetuous, full of majesty, and of a most 
generous spirit. It is then the animal is noble, exalted, 
and useless. But entrap him, manacle him, cudgel him, 
break down his lofty spirit, put the curb into his mouth, 
the load upon his back, and reduce him into servile 
obedience to the bridle and the lash, and it is then he 
becomes useful. Your jackass is one of the most use- 
ful animals in existence. If my readers do not now 
understand what I mean by usefulness, I give them all 
up for most absolute nincoms. 

To rise in this country a man must first descend. 
The aspiring politician may be compared to that inde- 
fatigable insect called the tumbler, pronounced by a dis- 
tinguished personage to be the only industrious animal 



WASHINGTON' IRVING. 21 

in Virginia ; which buries itself in filth, and works 

ignobly in the dirt, until it forms a little ball of dirt, 
which it rolls laboriously along, like Diogenes in his 
tub; sometimes head, sometimes tail foremost, pilfering 
from every rat and mud hole, and encreasing its ball of 
greatness by the contributions of the kennel. Just so 
the candidate for greatness : — he plunges into that mass 
of obscenity, the mob ; labours in dirt and oblivion, and 
makes unto himself the rudiments of a popular name 
from the admiration and praises of rogues, ignoramuses, 
and blackguards. His name once started, onward he 
goes struggling and puffing, and pushing it before him ; 
collecting new tributes from the dregs and offals of the 
land as he proceeds, until having gathered together a 
mighty mass of popularity, he mounts it in triumph, is 
hoisted into office, and becomes a great man, and a ruler 
in the land. All this will be clearly illustrated by a 
sketch of a worthy of the kind, who sprung up under 
my eye, and was hatched from pollution by the broad 
rays of popularity, which, like the sun, can "breed 
maggots in a dead dog. ; ' 

Timothy Dabble was a young man of very promising 
talents ; for he wrote a fair hand, and had thrice won 
the silver medal at a country academy; he was also an 
orator, for he talked with emphatic volubility, and could 
argue a full hour without taking either side, or advanc- 
ing a single opinion ; he had still farther requisites for 
eloquence ; for he made very handsome gestures, had 
dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, and enunciated 
most harmoniously through his nose. In short, nature 
had certainly marked him out for a great man ; for 
though he was not tall, yet he added at least half an 
inch to his stature by elevating his head, and assumed 
an amazing expression of dignity by turning up his nose 
and curling his nostrils in a style of conscious superi- 
ority. Convinced by these unequivocal appearances, 
Dabble*s friends, in full caucus, one and all, declared 
that he was undoubtedly born to be a great man, and it 
would be his own fault if he were not one. Dabble 
was tickled with an opinion which coincided so happily 



22 BEAUTIES OF 

with his own, — for vanity, in a confidential whisper had 
given him the like intimation ; and he reverenced the 
judgment of his friends because they thought so highly 
of himself ; — accordingly he set out with a determina- 
tion to become a great man, and to start in the scrub 
race for honour and renown. How to attain the desired 
prizes was however the question. He knew, by a kind 
of instinctive feeling, which seems peculiar to grovel- 
ling minds, that honour, and its better part — profit, 
would never seek him out; that they would never knock 
at his door and crave admittance ; but must be courted, 
and toiled after, and earned. He therefore strutted 
forth into the highways, the market-places, and the as- 
semblies of the people ; ranted like a true cockerel 
orator about virtue, and patriotism, and liberty, and 
equality, and himself. Full many a political windmill 
did he battle with ; and full many a time did he talk 
himself out of breath, and his hearers out of their pa- 
tience. But Dabble found to his vast astonishment, 
that there was not a notorious political pimp at a ward 
meeting but could out-talk him ; — and what was still 
more mortifying, there was not a notorious political 
pimp but was more noticed and caressed than himself. 
The reason was simple enough ; while he harangued 
about principles, the others ranted about men ; where 
he reprobated a political error, they blasted a political 
character : — they were, consequently, the most useful; 
for the great object of our political disputes is not who 
shall have the honour of emancipating the community 
from the leading-strings of delusion, but who shall have 
the profit of holding the strings and leading the com- 
munity by the nose. 

Dabble was likewise very loud in his professions of 
integrity, incorruptibility, and disinterestedness ; words, 
which, from being filtered and refined through news- 
papers and election hand-bills, have lost their original 
signification ; and in the political dictionary are synony- 
mous with empty pockets, itching palms, and interested 
ambition. He, in addition to all this, declared that he 
would support none but honest men ; but unluckily as 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 23 

but few of these offered themselves to be supported, 
Dabble's services were seldom required. He pledged 
himself never to engage in party schemes, or party 
politics, but to stand up solely for the broad interests 
of his country ; — so he stood alone ; and what is the 
same thing, he stood still ; for, in this country, he who 
does not side with either party is like a body in a vacuum 
between two planets, and must for ever remain motion- 
less. 

Dabble was immeasurably surprised that a man so 
honest, so disinterested, and so sagacious withal, and 
one, too, who had the good of his country so much at 
heart, should thus remain unnoticed and unapplauded. 
A little worldly advice, whispered in his ear by a 
shrewd old politician, at once explained the whole mys- 
tery. " He who would become great," said he, " must 
serve an apprenticeship to greatness ; and rise by regular 
gradation, like the master of a vessel, who commences 
by being scrub and cabin-boy. He must fag in the train 
of great men, echo all their sentiments, become their 
toad-eater and parasite, — laugh at all their jokes ; and, 
above all, endeavour to make them laugh : if you only 
now and then make a man laugh, your fortune is made. 
Look but about you, youngster, and you will not see a 
single little great man of the day but has his miserable 
herd of retainers, who yelp at his heels, come at his 
whistle, worry whoever he points his finger at, and think 
themselves fully rewarded by sometimes snapping up a 
crumb that falls from the great man's table. Talk of 
patriotism, virtue and incorruptibility ! tut, man ! they 
are the very qualities that scare munificence, and keep 
patronage at a distance. You might as well attempt to 
entice crows with red rags and gunpowder. Lay all 
these scarecrow virtues aside, and let this be your maxim, 
that a candidate for political eminence is like a dried 
herring; he never becomes luminous until he is corrupt." 

Dabble caught with hungry avidity these congenial 
doctrines, and turned into his predestined channel of 
action with the force and rapidity of a stream which has 
for a while been restrained from its natural course. He 



2i BEAUTIES OF 

became what nature had fitted him to be ; — his tone 
softened down from arrogant self-sufficiency to the whine 
of fawning solicitation. He mingled in the causes of 
the sovereign people ; adapted his dress to a similitude 
of dirty raggedness ; argued most logically with those 
who were of his own opinion ; and slandered, with all 
the malice of impotence, exalted characters whose orbit 
he despaired ever to approach: — just as that scoundrel 
midnight thief, the owl, hoots at the blessed light of the 
sun, whose glorious lustre he dares never contemplate. 
He likewise applied himself to discharging faithfully 
the honourable duties of a partizan ; he poached about 
for private slanders, and ribald anecdotes ; he folded 
hand-bills — he even wrote one or two himself, which he 
carried about in his pocket and read to every body ; he 
became a secretary at ward-meetings, set his hand to 
divers resolutions of patriotic import, and even once 
went so far as to make a speech, in which he proved 
that patriotism was a virtue ; — the reigning bashaw a 
great man ; — that this was a free country, and he him- 
self an arrant and incontestable buzzard ! 

Dabble was now very frequent and devout in his visits 
to those temples of politics, popularity, and smoke, the 
ward porter-houses ; those true dens of equality, where 
all ranks, ages, and talents, are brought down to the 
dead level of rude familiarity. 'Twas here his talents 
expanded, and his genius swelled up to its proper size ; 
like the loathsome toad, which shrinking from balmy 
airs, and jocund sunshine, finds his congenial home in 
caves and dungeons, and there nourishes his venom, and 
bloats his deformity. ' Twas here he revelled with the 
swinish multitude in their debauches on patriotism and 
porter ; and it became an even chance whether Dabble 
would turn out a great man or a great drunkard. But 
Dabble in all this kept steadily in his eye the only deity 
he ever worshipped — his interest. Having by this 
familiarity ingratiated himself with the mob, he became 
wonderfully potent and industrious at elections ; knew 
all the dens and cellars of profligacy and intemperance ; 
brought more negroes to the polls, and knew to a greater 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 25 

certainty where votes could be bought for beer, than 
any of his contemporaries. His exertions in the cause, 
his persevering industry, his degrading compliance, his 
unresisting humility, his steadfast dependence, at length 
caught the attention of one of the leaders of the party ; 
who was pleased to observe that Dabble was a very 
useful fellow, who would go all lengths. From that 
moment his fortune was made ; — he was hand and glove 
with orators and slang-whangers ; basked in the sun- 
shine of great men's smiles, and had the honour, sundry 
times, of shaking hands with dignitaries, and drinking 
out of the same pot with them at a porter-house ! ! 

I will not fatigue myself with tracing this caterpillar 
in his slimy progress from worm to butterfly ; suffice it 
that Dabble bowed and bowed, and fawned and sneak- 
ed, and smirked and libelled, until one would have 
thought perseverance itself would have settled down 
into despair. There was no knowing how long he might 
have lingered at a distance from his hopes, had he not 
luckily got tarred and feathered for some of his election- 
eering manoeuvres — this was the making of him ! Let 
not my readers stare — tarring and feathering here is 
equal to pillory and cropped ears in England ; and either 
of these kinds of martyrdom will ensure a patriot the 
sympathy and suffrages of a faction. His partizans, for 
even he had his partizans, took his case into considera- 
tion — he had been kicked and cuffed, and disgraced, and 
dishonoured in the cause — he had licked the dust at the 
feet of the mob — he was a faithful drudge, slow to an- 
ger, of invincible patience, of incessant assiduity — a 
thorough going tool, who could be curbed, and spurred, 
and directed at pleasure — in short he had all the import- 
ant qualifications for a little great man, and he was ac- 
cordingly ushered into office amid the acclamations of 
the party. The leading men complimented his useful- 
ness, the multitude his republican simplicity, and the 
slang-whangers vouched for his patriotism. Since his 
elevation he has discovered indubitable signs of having 
been destined for a great man. His nose has acquired 
an additional elevation of several degrees, so that now 



26 BEAUTIES OF 

he appears to have bidden adieu to this world, and to 
have set his thoughts altogether on things above ; and 
he has swelled and inflated himself to such a degree, 
that his friends are under apprehensions that he will one 
day or other explode and blow up like a torpedo. 



A warlike Portrait of the great Peter — and how General 
Von Poffenburgh distinguished himself at Fort Casimir. 

Hitherto, most venerable and courteous reader, have 
I shown thee the administration of the valorous Stuy- 
vesant under the mild moonshine of peace, or rather the 
grim tranquillity of awful expectation ; but now the war- 
drum rumbles from afar, the brazen trumpet brays its 
thrilling note, and the rude clash of hostile arms speaks 
fearful prophecies of coming troubles. The gallant war- 
rior starts from soft repose, from golden visions, and 
voluptuous ease; where, in the dulcet "piping time of 
peace," he sought sweet solace after all his toils. No 
more in beauty's siren lap reclined, he weaves fair gar- 
lands for his lady's brows ; no more entwines with flowers 
his shining sword ; nor through the live long lazy sum- 
mer's day, chants forth his love-sick soul in madrigals. 
To manhood roused, he spurns the amorous lute ; doffs 
from his brawny back the robe of peace, and clothes his 
pampered limbs in panoply of steel. O'er his dark 
brow, where late the myrtle waved — where wanton roses 
breathed enervate love — he rears the beaming casque and 
nodding plume ; grasps the bright shield, and shakes the 
ponderous lance ; or mounts with eager pride the fiery 
steed, and burns for deeds of glorious chivalry ! 

But soft, worthy reader ! I would not have you ima- 
gine, that any preux chevalier, thus hideously begirt with 
iron, existed in the city of New- Amsterdam. This is but 
a lofty and gigantic mode in which heroic writers always 
talk of war, thereby to give it a noble and imposing as- 
pect; equipping our warriors with bucklers, helmets, and 
lances, and such like outlandish and obsolete weapons, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 27 

the like which, perchance, they had never seen or heard 
of; in the same manner that a cunning statuary arrays 
a modern general or an admiral in the accoutrements of 
a Caesar or an Alexander. The simple truth, then, of 
all this oratorical nourish is this — that the valiant Peter 
Stuyvesant, all of a sudden, found it necessary to scour 
his trusty blade, which too long had rusted in its scab- 
bard, and prepare himself to undergo the hardy toils of 
war, in which his mighty soul so much delighted. 

Methinks I at this moment behold him in my imagi- 
nation — or rather, I behold his goodly portrait, which 
still hangs up in the family mansion of the Stuyvesants, 
arrayed in all the terrors of a true Dutch general. His 
regimental coat of German blue, gorgeously decorated 
with a goodly show of large brass buttons, reaching from 
his waistband to his chin. The voluminous skirts turned 
up at the corners, and separating gallantly behind, so as 
to display the seat of a sumptuous pair of brimstone- 
coloured trunk breeches — a graceful style still prevalent 
among the warriors of our day, and which is in confor- 
mity to the custom of ancient heroes, who scorned to de- 
fend themselves in rear. His face rendered exceeding 
terrible and warlike by a pair of black mustachios ; his 
hair strutting out on each side in stiffly pomatumed ear- 
locks, and descending in a rat-tail queue below his waist ; 
a shining stock of black leather supporting his chin, and 
a little, but fierce cocked hat, stuck with a gallant and 
fiery air over his left eye. Such was the chivalric port 
of Peter the Headstrong ; and when he made a sudden 
halt, planted himself firmly on his solid supporter, with 
his wooden leg inlaid with silver, a little in advance, in 
order to strengthen his position, his right hand grasping 
a gold-headed cane, his left resting upon the pummel of 
his sword ; his head dressing spiritedly to the right, with 
a most appalling and hard favoured frown upon his brow 
— he presented altogether one of the most commanding, 
bitter-looking, and soldier-like figures that ever strutted 
upon canvass. Proceed we now to inquire the cause of 
this warlike preparation. 

The encroaching disposition of the Swedes, on the 



28 BEAUTIES OF 

south or Delaware river, has been duly recorded in the 
chronicles of the reign of William the Testy. These 
encroachments, having been endured with that heroic 
magnanimity which is the corner-stone, or, according to 
Aristotle, the left hand neighbour of true courage, had 
been repeated and wickedly aggravated. 

The Swedes, who were of that class of cunning pre- 
tenders to Christianity, who read the Bible upside down, 
whenever it interferes with their interests, inverted the 
golden maxim ; and when their neighbour suffered them 
to smite him on the one cheek, they generally smote him 
on the other also, whether turned to them or not. Their 
repeated aggressions had been among the numerous 
sources of vexation that conspired to keep the irritable 
sensibilities of Wilhelmus Kieft in a constant fever ; and 
it was only owing to the unfortunate circumstance that 
he had always a hundred things to do at once, that he 
did not take such unrelenting vengeance as their offences 
merited. But they had now a chieftain of a different 
character to deal with ; and they were soon guilty of a 
piece of treachery that threw his honest blood into a 
ferment, and precluded all further sufferance. 

Printz, the governor of the province of New- Sweden, 
being either deceased or removed, for of this fact some 
uncertainty exists, was succeeded by Jan Risingh, a 
gigantic Swede ; and who, had he not been rather knock- 
kneed and splay-footed, might have served for the model 
of a Samson or a Hercules. He was no less rapacious 
than mighty, and withal as crafty as he was rapacious ; 
so that, in fact, there is very little doubt, had he lived 
some four or five centuries before, he would have been 
one of those wicked giants, who took such a cruel plea- 
sure in pocketing distressed damsels, when gadding about 
the world ; and locking them up in enchanted castles, 
without a toilet, a change of linen, or any other conve- 
nience. In consequence of which enormities, they fell 
under the high displeasure of chivalry, and all true, loyal, 
and gallant knights, were instructed to attack and slay 
outright any miscreant they might happen to find above 
six feet high ; which is doubtless one reason that the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 29 

race of large men is nearly extinct, and the generations 
of latter ages so exceeding small. 

No sooner did Governor Risingh enter upon his office 
than he immediately cast his eyes upon the important 
post of Fort Casimir, and formed the righteous resolu- 
tion of taking it into his possession. The only thing that 
remained to consider, was the mode of carrying his reso- 
lution into effect : and here I must do him the justice 
to say, that he exhibited a humanity rarely to be met 
with among leaders, and which I have never seen equalled 
in modern times, excepting among the English, in their 
glorious affair at Copenhagen. Willing to spare the 
effusion of blood, and the miseries of open warfare, he 
benevolently shunned every thing like avowed hostility 
or regular siege, and resorted to the less glorious but 
more merciful expedient of treachery. 

Under pretence, therefore, of paying a neighbourly 
visit to General Von PofTenburgh, at his new post of 
Fort Casimir, he made requisite preparation, sailed in 
great state up the Delaware, displayed his flag with the 
most ceremonious punctilio, and honoured the fortress 
with a royal salute, previous to dropping anchor. The 
unusual noise awakened a veteran Dutch sentinel, who 
was napping faithfully at his post, and who, having suf- 
fered his match to go out, contrived to return the com- 
pliment, by discharging his rusty musket with the spark 
of a pipe, which he borrowed from one of his comrades. 
The salute, indeed, would have been answered by the 
guns of the fort, had they not been unfortunately out of 
order, and the magazine deficient in ammunition — acci- 
dents to which forts have in all ages been liable, and 
which were the more excusable in the present instance, 
as Fort Casimir had only been erected about two years, 
and General Von Poffenburgh, its mighty commander, 
had been fully occupied with matters of much greater 
importance. 

Risingh, highly satisfied with this courteous reply to 

his salute, treated the fort to a second, for he well knew 

its commander was marvellously delighted with these 

little ceremonials, which he considered as so many acts 

c2 



30 BEAUTIES OF 

of homage paid unto his greatness. He then landed in 
great state, attended by a suite of thirty men — a prodi- 
gious and vainglorious retinue for a petty governor of a 
petty settlement, in those days of primitive simplicity ; 
and to the full as great an army as generally swells the 
pomp and marches in the rear of our frontier commanders 
at the present day. 

The number in fact might have awakened suspicion, 
had not the mind of the great Von PofFenburgh been 
so completely engrossed with an all-pervading idea of 
himself, that he had not room to admit a thought be- 
sides. In fact, he considered the concourse of Risingh's 
followers as a compliment to himself — so apt are great 
men to stand between themselves and the sun, and com- 
pletely eclipse the truth by their own shadow. 

It may readily be imagined how much General Von 
PofFenburgh wa§ nattered by a visit from so august a 
personage ; his only embarrassment was, how he should 
receive him in such a manner as to appear to the greatest 
advantage, and make the most advantageous impression. 
The main guard was ordered immediately to turn out, 
and the arms and regimentals (of which the garrison pos- 
sessed full half a dozen suits) were equally distributed 
among the soldiers. One tall lank fellow appeared in a 
coat intended for a small man, the skirts of which reached 
a little below his waist, the buttons w T ere between his 
shoulders, and the sleeves half way to his wrists, so that 
his hands looked like a couple of huge spades ; and the 
coat not being large enough to meet in front, was linked 
together by loops, made of a pair of red worsted garters. 
Another had an old cocked hat, stuck on the back of his 
head, and decorated with a bunch of cock's tails — a third 
had a pair of rusty gaiters hanging about his heels — while 
a fourth, who was a short duck-legged little Trojan, was 
equipped in a huge pair of the general's cast-off breeches, 
which he held up with one hand, while he grasped his 
firelock with the other. The rest were accoutred in 
similar style, excepting three graceless ragamuffins, who 
had no shirts, and but a pair and half of breeches be- 
tween them, wherefore they were sent to the black-hole, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 31 

to keep them out of view. There is nothing in which 
the talents of a prudent commander are more completely 
testified, than in thus setting matters off to the greatest 
advantage ; and it is for this reason that our frontier 
posts at the present day (that of Niagara for example,) 
display their best suit of regimentals on the back of the 
sentinel who stands in sight of travellers. 

His men being thus gallantly arrayed — those who 
lacked muskets shouldering spades and pickaxes, and 
every man being ordered to tuck in his shirt tail and pull 
up his brogues, General Von PofFenburgh first took a 
sturdy draught of foaming ale, which, like the magnani- 
mous More of Morehall, was his invariable practice on all 
great occasions; which done, he put himself at their 
head, ordered the pine planks which served as a draw 
bridge, to be laid down, and issued forth from his cas- 
tle, like a mighty giant, just refreshed with wine. But 
when the two heroes met, then began a scene of war- 
like parade, and chivalric courtesy that beggars all des- 
cription. Risingh, who, as I before hinted, was a 
shrewd, cunning politician, and had grown gray much 
before his time, in consequence of his craftiness, saw at 
one glance the ruling passion of the great Von PofTen- 
burgh, and humoured him in all his valorous fantasies. 

Their detachments were accordingly drawn up in front 
of each other ; they carried arms, and they presented 
arms ; they gave the standing salute and passing sa- 
lute : — they rolled their drums, they flourished their fifes, 
and they waved their colours — they faced to the left, and 
they faced to the right, and they faced to the right about : 
— they wheeled forward, and they wheeled backward, 
and they wheeled into enchelon : — they marched and 
they counter-marched by grand divisions, by single di- 
visions, and by subdivisions, — by platoons, by sections, 
and by files — to quick time, in slow time, and in no 
time at all : for having gone through all the evolutions 
of two great armies, including the eighteen manoeuvres 
of Dundas ; having exhausted all that they could recol- 
lect or imagine of military tactics, including sundry 
strange and irregular evolutions, the like of which were 



32 BEAUTIES OF 

never seen before or since, excepting among certain of 
our newly raised militia — the two great commanders 
and their respective troops came at length to a dead 
halt, completely exhausted by the toils of war. Never 
did two valiant train band captains, or two buskined 
theatric heroes, in the renowned tragedies of Pizarro, 
Tom Thumb, or any other heroical and fighting tragedy, 
marshal their gallows-looking, duck-legged, heavy-heel- 
ed myrmidons, with more glory and self-admiration. 

These military compliments being finished, General 
Von Poffenburgh escorted his illustrious visitor, with 
great ceremony, into the fort ; attended him throughout 
the fortifications ; showed him the horn-works, crown- 
works, half-moons, and various other out-works ; or 
rather the places where they ought to be erected ; and 
where they might be erected if he pleased ; plainly de- 
monstrating that it was a place of " great capability," 
and though at present but a little redoubt, yet that it 
evidently was a formidable fortress in embryo. This 
survey over, he next had the whole garrison put under 
arms, exercised and reviewed, and concluded by ordering 
the three bridewell birds to be hauled out of the black 
hole, brought up to the halberts, and soundly flogged 
for the amusement of his visitor, and to convince him 
that he was a great disciplinarian. 

There is no error more dangerous than for a com- 
mander to make known the strength, or, as in the 
present case, the weakness of his garrison ; this will be 
exemplified before I have arrived to the end of my 
present story, which thus carries its moral, like a roast- 
ed goose his pudding, in the very middle. The cunning 
Risingh, while he pretended to be struck dumb outright, 
with the puissance of the great Von Poffenburgh, took 
silent note of the incompetency of his garison, of which 
he gave a hint to his trusty followers, who tipped each 
other the wink, and laughed most obstreperously — in 
their sleeves. 

The inspection, review, and flogging being concluded, 
the party adjourned to the table ; for among his other 
great qualities, the general was remarkably addicted to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. S3 

huge entertainments, or rather carousals; and in one 
afternoon's campaign would leave more dead men on the 
field that ever he did in the whole course of his military 
career. Many bulletins of these bloodless victories do 
still remain on record ; and the whole province was once 
thrown in amaze by the return of one of his campaigns; 
wherein it was stated, that though, like Captain Bobadil, 
he had only twenty men to back him, yet, in the short 
space of six months, he had conquered and utterly anni- 
hilated sixty oxen, ninety hogs, one hundred sheep, ten 
thousand cabbages, one thousand bushels of potatoes, 
one hundred and fifty kilderkins of small beer, two 
thousand seven hundred and thirty-five pipes, seventy- 
eight pounds of sugar plums, and forty bars of iron, 
besides sundry small meats, game, poultry, and garden 
stuffs. An achievement unparalleled since the days of 
Pantagruel and his all-devouring army ; and which 
showed that it was only necessary to let bellipotent Von 
Poffenburgh and his garrison loose in an enemy's coun- 
try, and in a little while they would breed a famine, and 
starve all the inhabitants. 

No sooner, therefore, had the general received the 
first intimation of the visit of Governor Risingh, than 
he ordered a great dinner to be prepared ; and privately 
sent out a detachment of his most experienced veterans 
to rob all the hen roosts in the neighbourhood, and lay 
the pigsties under contribution — a service to which they 
had been long inured, and which they discharged with 
such incredible zeal and promptitude, that the garrison 
table groaned under the weight of their spoils 

I wish, with all my heart, my readers could see the 
valiant Von Poffenburgh, as he presided at the head of 
the banquet. It was a sight worth beholding : — there he 
sat, in his greatest glory, surrounded by his soldiers, like 
that famous wine-bibber, Alexander, whose thirsty vir- 
tues he did most ably imitate ; telling astonishing stories 
of his hair-breadth adventures and heroic exploits, at 
which, though all his auditors knew them to be most 
incontinent and outrageous gasconades, yet did they cast 
up their eyes in admiration, and utter many interjections 



34i BEAUTIES OF 

of astonishment. Nor could the general pronounce any 
thing that bore the remotest resemblance to a joke but 
the stout Risingh would strike his brawny fist upon the 
table, till every glass rattled again, throwing himself 
back in his chair, and uttering gigantic peals of laughter, 
swearing most horribly it was the best joke he ever 
heard in his life. Thus all was rout and revelry and 
hideous carousal within Fort Casimir ; and so lustily did 
Von Poffenburgh ply the bottle that in less than four 
short hours he made himself and his whole garrison, 
who all sedulously emulated the deeds of their chieftain, 
dead drunk, in singing songs, quaffing bumpers, and 
drinking patriotic toasts, none of which but was as long 
as a Welsh pedigree, or a plea in Chancery. 

No sooner did things come to this pass than the crafty 
Risingh and his Swedes, who had cunningly kept them- 
selves sober, rose on their entertainers, tied them neck 
and heels, and took formal possession of the fort, and 
all its dependencies, in the name of Queen Christina 
of Sweden ; administrating, at the same time, an oath of 
allegiance to all the Dutch soldiers who could be made 
sober enough to swallow it. Risingh then put the 
fortifications in order, appointed his discreet and vigilant 
friend Suen Scutz, a tall, wind-dried, water-drinking, 
Swede, to the command; and departed, bearing with 
him this truly amiable garrison and their puissant com- 
mander, who, when brought to himself by a sound 
drubbing, bore no small resemblance to a " deboshed 
fish," or bloated sea monster, caught upon dry land. 

The transportation of the garrison was done to pre- 
vent the transmission of intelligence to New- Amster- 
dam ; for much as the cunning Risingh exulted in his 
stratagem, he dreaded the vengeance of the sturdy Peter 
Stuyvesant, whose name spread as much terror in the 
neighbourhood as did whilome that of the unconquerable 
Scanderbeg among his scurvey enemies the Turks. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 35 



Dirk Schuiler and the valiant Peter. 

Whoever first described common fame, or rumour, as 
belonging to the sager sex, was a very owl from shrewd- 
ness. She has in truth certain feminine qualities to an 
astonishing degree ; particularly that benevolent anxiety 
to take care of the affairs of others, which keeps her 
continually hunting after secrets, and gadding about 
proclaiming them. Whatever is done openly, and in 
the face of the world, she takes but transient notice of ; 
but whenever a transaction is done in a corner, and 
attempted to be shrouded in mystery, then her goddes- 
ship is at her wit's end to find it out, and takes a most 
mischievous and lady-like pleasure in publishing it to 
the world. It is this truly feminine propensity that in- 
duces her continually to be prying into cabinets of prin- 
ces, listening at the key-holes of senate chambers, and 
peering through chinks and crannies when our worthy 
congress are sitting with closed doors, deliberating be- 
tween a dozen excellent modes of ruining the nation. 
It is this which makes her so obnoxious to all wary 
statesmen and intriguing commanders — such a stum- 
bling-block to private negociations and secret expedi- 
tions, she often betrays by means and instruments 
which never would have been thought of by any but a 
female head. 

Thus it was in the case of the affair of Fort Casimir. 
No doubt the cunning Risingh imagined that, by secur- 
ing the garrison, he should for a long time prevent the 
history of its fate from reaching the ears of the gallant 
Stuveysant ; but his exploit was blown to the world 
when he least expected it, and by one of the last beings 
he would ever have suspected of enlisting as trumpeter 
to the wide-mouthed deity. 

This was one Dirk Schuiler (or Skulker), a kind of 
hanger-on to the garrison, who seemed to belong to no- 
body, and in a manner to be self-outlawed. He was 
one of those vagabond cosmopolites, who shark about 



36 BEAUTIES OF 

the world as if they had no right or business in it ; and 
who infest the skirts of society, like poachers and in- 
terlopers. Every garrison and country village has one 
or more scape-goats of this kind, whose life is a kind 
of enigma, whose existence is without motive, who 
comes from the Lord knows where, who lives the Lord 
knows how, and seems to be made for no other earthly 
purpose but to keep up the ancient and honourable order 
of idleness. This vagabond philosopher was supposed 
to have some Indian blood in his veins, which was ma- 
nifested by a certain Indian complexion and cast of 
countenance ; but more especially by his propensities 
and habits. He was a tall, lank fellow, swift of foot, 
and long-winded. He was generally equipped in a half 
Indian dress, with belt, leggings, and moccasons. His 
hair hung in straight gallows-locks about his ears, and 
added not a little to his sharking demeanour. It is an 
old remark, that persons of Indian mixture are half 
civilized, half savage, and half devil ; a third half being 
expressly provided for their particular convenience. It 
is for similar reasons, and probably with equal truth, 
that the back-wood men of Kentucky are styled half 
man, half horse, and half alligator by the settlers on the 
Mississippi, and held accordingly in great respect and 
abhorrence. 

The above character may have presented itself to 
the garrison as applicable to Dirk Schuiler, whom they 
familiarly dubbed Gallows Dirk. Certain it is, he 
acknowledged allegiance to no one — was an utter enemy 
to work, holding it in no manner of estimation — but 
lounged about the fort, depending upon chance for a 
subsistence, getting drunk whenever he could get liquor, 
and stealing whatever he could lay his hands on. Every 
day or two he was sure to get a sound rib-roasting for 
some of his misdemeanours, which, however, as it broke 
no bones, he made very light of, and scrupled not to re- 
peat the offence whenever another opportunity present- 
ed. Sometimes, in consequence of some flagrant vil- 
lany, he would abscond from the garrison, and be absent 
for a month at a time ; skulking about the woods and 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 37 

swamps, with a long fowling-piece on his shoulder, ly- 
ing in ambush for game, or squatting himself down on 
the edge of a pond catching fish for hours together, and 
bearing no little resemblance to that notable bird ycleped 
the Mud-pole. When he thought his crimes had been 
forgotten or forgiven, he would sneak back to the fort 
with a bundle of skins, or a bunch of poultry, which 
perchance he had stolen, and would exchange them for 
liquor, with which, having well soaked his carcass, he 
would lie in the sun and enjoy all the luxurious indo- 
lence of that swinish philosopher Diogenes. He was 
the terror of all the farm-yards in the country, into 
which he made fearful inroads ; and sometimes he would 
make his sudden appearance at the garrison at daybreak, 
with the whole neighbourhood at his heels, like a 
scoundrel thief of a fox, detected in his maraudings, 
and hunted to his hole. Such was this Dirk Schuiler; 
and from the total indifference he showed to this 
world or its concerns, and from his truly Indian stoic- 
ism and taciturnity, no one would ever have dreamed 
that he would have been the publisher of the treachery 
of Risingh. 

When the carousal was going on, which proved so 
fatal to the brave Von Poffenberg and his watchful 
garrison, Dirk skulked about from room to room, being 
a kind of privileged vagrant or useless hound, whom 
nobody noticed. But though a fellow of few words, 
yet, like your taciturn people, his eyes and ears were 
always open, and in the course of his prowlings he over- 
heard the whole plot of the Swedes. Dirk immediately 
settled in his own mind how he should turn the mat- 
ter to his own advantage. He played the perfect 
jack-of-both-sides ; that is to say, he made a prize of 
every thing that came in his reach, robbed both par- 
ties, stuck the copper-bound cocked hat of the puis- 
sant Von Poffenburgh on his head, whipped a huge 
pair of Risingh's jackboots under his arm, and took to 
his heels just before the catastrophe and confusion at 
the garrison. 

Finding himself completely dislodged from his haunt 



38 BEAUTIES OF 

in this quarter, he directed his flight towards his na- 
tive place, New-Amsterdam, from whence he had 
formerly been obliged to abscond precipitately, in con- 
sequence of misfortune in business, that is to say, hav- 
ing been detected in the act of sheep-stealing. After 
wandering many days in the woods, toiling through 
swamps, fording brooks, swimming various rivers, and 
encountering a world of hardships that would have kil- 
led any other being but an Indian, a back- wood man, or 
the devil, he at length arrived, half-famished, and lank 
as a starved weasel, at Communipaw, where he stole a 
canoe, and paddled over to New- Amsterdam. Imme- 
diately on landing, he repaired to Governor Stuyvesant, 
and in more words than he had ever spoken before in the 
whole course of his life, gave an account of the disas- 
trous affair. 

On receiving these direful tidings, the valiant Peter 
started from his seat, as did the stout King Arthur 
when at "merry Carleile," the news was brought him 
of the uncourteous misdeeds of the " grim barone" — 
without uttering a word, he dashed the pipe he was 
smoking against the back of the chimney, thrust a pro- 
digious quid of negro-headed tobacco into his left 
cheek, pulled up his galligaskins, and strode up and 
down the room, humming, as was customary with him 
when in a passion, a hideous north-west ditty. But, 
as I have before shown, he was not a man to vent his 
spleen in idle vapouring. His first measure, after the 
paroxysm of wrath had subsided, was to stump up stairs 
to a huge wooden chest, which served as his armoury, 
from whence he drew forth that identical suit of regi- 
mentals described in the preceding chapter. In these 
portentous habiliments he arrayed himself, like Achilles 
in the armour of Vulcan, maintaining all the while a 
most appalling silence, knitting his brows, and drawing 
his breath through his clenched teeth. Being hastily 
equipped, he strode down into the parlour, jerked down 
his trusty sword from over the fire-place, where it was 
usually suspended ; but before he girded it on his thigh 
he drew it from its scabbard, and as his eye coursed 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 39 

along the rusty blade, a grim smile stole over his iron 
visage. It was the first smile that had visited his 
countenance for five long weeks ; but every one who 
beheld it prophesied that there would soon be warm 
work in the province ! 

Thus armed at all points, with grisly war depicted 
in each feature, his very cocked hat assuming an air of 
uncommon defiance, he instantly put himself on the 
alert, and despatched Anthony Van Corlear hither and 
thither, this way and that way, through all the muddy 
streets and crooked lanes of the city, summoning by 
sound of trumpet his trusty peers to assemble in instant 
council. This done, by way of expediting matters, 
according to the custom of people in a hurry, he kept 
in continual bustle, shifting from chair to chair, popping 
his head out of every window, and stumping up and down 
stairs with his wooden leg in such brisk and incessant 
motion, that, as we are informed by an authentic his- 
torian of the times, the continual clatter bore no small 
resemblance to the music of a cooper hooping a flour 
barrel. 

A summons so peremptory, and from a man of the 
governor's mettle, was not to be trifled with ; the sages 
forthwith repaired to the council chamber, where the 
gallant Stuyvesant entered in martial style, and took 
his chair, like another Charlemagne, among his Pala- 
dins. The counsellors seated themselves with the ut- 
most tranquillity, and lighting their long pipes, gazed 
with unruffled composure on his excellency and his 
regimentals; being, as all counsellors should be, not 
easily flattered, or taken by surprise. The governor, 
looking around for a moment with a lofty and soldier- 
like air, and resting one hand on the pummel of his 
sword, and flinging the other forth, in a free and spirited 
manner, addressed them in a short but soul-stirring 
harangue. 

I am extremely sorry that I have not the advantages 
of Livy, Thucydides, Plutarch, and others of my 
predecessors, who were furnished, as I am told, with 
the speeches of all their great emperors, generals, and 



40 BEAUTIES OF 

orators, taken down in short hand by the most accurate 
stenographers of the time ; whereby they were enabled 
wonderfully to enrich their histories, and delight their 
readers with sublime strains of eloquence. Not having 
such important auxiliaries, I cannot possibly pronounce 
what was the tenor of Governor Stuyvesant's speech. 
Whether he with maiden coyness hinted to his hearers, 
that " there was a speck of war in the horizon ;" that 
it would be necessary to resort to the "unprofitable 
trial of which could do each other the most harm," — 
or any other delicate construction of language, whereby 
the odious subject of war is handled so fastidiously by 
modern statesmen ; as a gentleman volunteer handles 
his filthy saltpetre weapons with gloves, lest it should 
soil his dainty fingers. 

I am bold, however, to say, from the tenor of Peter 
Stuyvesant's character, that he did not wrap his rugged 
subject in silks and ermines, and other sickly trickeries 
of phrase ; but spoke forth, like a man of nerve and 
vigour, who scorned to shrink in words from those dan- 
gers which he stood ready to encounter in very deed. 
This much is certain, that he concluded by announcing 
his determination of leading on his troops in person, 
and routing these costardmonger Swedes from their 
usurped quarter at Fort Casimir. To this hardy reso- 
lution, such of his council as were awake gave their 
usual signal of concurrence, and as to the rest, who had 
fallen asleep about the middle of the harangue (their 
" usual custom in the afternoon") — they made not the 
least objection. 

And now was seen in the fair city of New- Amster- 
dam a prodigious bustle and preparation for iron war. 
Recruiting parties marched hither and thither, caUing 
lustily upon all scrubs, the runagates, and tatterdema- 
lions of the Manhattoes and its vicinity, who had any 
ambition of sixpence a-day, and immortal fame into the 
bargain, to enlist in the cause of glory. For I would 
have you note, that your warlike heroes who trudge in 
the rear of conquerors, are generally of that illustrious 
class of gentlemen who are equal candidates for the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 41 

army or the bridewell — the halberts or the whipping- 
post: for whom dame fortune has cast an even die, 
whether they shall make their exit by the sword or the 
halter ; and whose deaths shall, at all events, be a lofty 
example to their countrymen. 

But notwithstanding all this martial rout and invita- 
tion, the ranks of honour were but scantily supplied ; 
so averse were the peaceful burghers of New- Amster- 
dam from enlisting in foreign broils, or stirring beyond 
that home which rounded all their earthly ideas. 
Upon beholding this, the great Peter, whose noble 
heart was all on fire with war and sweet revenge, de- 
termined to wait no longer for the tardy assistance of 
these oily citizens, but to muster up his merry men of 
the Hudson ; who, brought up among woods and wilds 
and savage beasts, like our yeomen of Kentucky, de- 
lighted in nothing so much as desperate adventures and 
perilous expeditions through the wilderness. Thus re- 
solving, he ordered his trusty squire, Anthony Van 
Corlear, to have his state galley prepared and duly 
victualled ; which being performed, he attended public 
service at the great church of St Nicholas, like a true 
and pious governor, and then leaving peremptory orders 
with his council to have the chivalry of the Manhattoes 
marshalled out and appointed against his return, de- 
parted upon his recruiting voyage up the waters of the 
Hudson. 



THE INN KITCHEN. 

During a journey that I once made through the Ne- 
therlands, I had arrived one evening at the Pomme d> Or, 
the principal inn of a small Flemish village. It was 
after the hour of the table d'hote, so that I was obliged 
to make a solitary supper from the reliques of its amp- 
ler board. The weather was chilly ; I was seated alone 
in one end of a great gloomy dining-room, and my re- 
past being over, I had the prospect before me of » 
d2 



42 BEAUTIES OF 

long dull evening, without any visible means of enliven- 
ing it. I summoned mine host, and requested some- 
thing to read ; he brought me the whole literary stock 
of his household, a Dutch family-bible, an almanack 
in the same language, and a number of old Paris news- 
papers. As I sat dozing over one of the latter, read- 
ing old news and stale criticisms, my ear was now and 
then struck with bursts of laughter which seemed to 
proceed from the kitchen. Every one that has tra- 
velled on the continent must know how favourite a 
resort the kitchen of a country inn is to the middle and 
inferior order of travellers ; particularly in that equivo- 
cal kind of weather, when a fire becomes agreeable 
towards evening. I threw aside the newspaper, and 
explored my way to the kitchen, to take a peep at the 
group that appeared to be so merry. It was composed 
partly of travellers who had arrived some hours before 
in a diligence, and partly of the usual attendants and 
hangers-on of inns. They were seated round a great 
burnished stove, that might have been mistaken for an 
altar, at which they were worshipping. It was covered 
with various kitchen vessels of resplendent brightness ; 
among which steamed and hissed a huge copper tea- 
kettle. A large lamp threw a strong mass of light upon 
the group, bringing out many odd features in strong re- 
lief. Its yellow rays partially illumed the spacious kitch- 
en, dying duskily away into remote corners ; except 
where they settled in mellow radiance on the broad side 
of a flitch of bacon, or were reflected back from well- 
scoured utensils that gleamed from the midst of obscu- 
rity. A strapping Flemish lass, with long golden pen- 
dants in her ears, and a necklace with a golden heart 
suspended to it, was the presiding priestess of the 
temple. 

Many of the company were furnished with pipes, 
and most of them with some kind of evening potation. 
I found their mirth was occasioned by anecdotes, which 
a little swarthy Frenchman, with a dry weazen face and 
large whiskers, was giving of his love-adventures ; at 
the end of each of which there was one of those bursts 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 43 

of honest unceremonious laughter, in which a man in- 
dulges in that temple of true liberty, an inn. 

As I had no better mode of getting through a tedious 
blustering evening, I took my seat near the stove, and 
listened to a variety of travellers' tales, some very extra- 
vagant, and most very dull. All of them, however, 
have faded from my treacherous memory except one, 
which I will endeavour to relate. I fear, however, it 
derived its chief zest from the manner in which it was 
told, and the peculiar air and appearance of the narra- 
tor. He was a corpulent old Swiss, who had the look 
of a veteran traveller. He was dressed in a tarnished 
green travelling jacket, with a broad belt round his 
waist, and a pair of overalls, with buttons from the hips 
to the ancles. He was of a full rubicund countenance, 
with a double chin, acquiline nose, and a pleasant twink- 
ling eye. His hair was light, and curled from under an 
old green velvet travelling cap stuck on one side of his 
head. He was interrupted more than once by the ar- 
rival of guests, or the remarks of his auditors; and 
paused now and then to replenish his pipe ; at which 
times he had generally a roguish leer, and a sly joke for 
the buxom kitchen maid. 

I wish my reader could imagine the old fellow lol- 
ling in a huge arm-chair, one arm a-kimbo, the other 
holding a curiously twisted tobacco pipe, formed of 
genuine e'cume de mer, decorated with silver chain and 
silken tassel — his head cocked on one side, and a whim- 
sical cut of the eye occasionally, as he related the follow- 
ing story : 



THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. 

On the summit of one of the heights of the Oden- 
wald, a wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany, 
that lies not far from the confluence of the Main and 
the Rhine, there stood, many, many years since, the 
Castle of the Baron Von Landshort. It is now quite 



44* BEAUTIES OF 

fallen to decay, and almost buried among beech trees 
and dark firs ; above which, however, its old watch- 
tower may still be seen struggling, like the former pos- 
sessor I have mentioned, to carry a high head, and look 
down upon the neighbouring country. 

The Baron was a dry branch of the great family of 
Katzenellenbogen,* and inherited the reliques of the 
property, and all the pride of his ancestors. Though 
the warlike disposition of his predecessors had much 
impaired the family possessions, yet the Baron still en- 
deavoured to keep up some show of former state. The 
times were peaceable, and the German nobles, in gene- 
ral, had abandoned their inconvenient old castles, perch- 
ed like eagles' nests among the mountains, and had 
built more convenient residences in the valleys ; still 
the Baron remained proudly drawn up in his little for- 
tress, cherishing with hereditary inveteracy, all the old 
family feuds ; so that he was on ill terms with some of 
his nearest neighbours, on account of disputes that had 
happened between their great great grandfathers. 

The Baron had but one child, a daughter : but na- 
ture, when she grants but one child, always compensates 
by making it a prodigy ; and so it was with the daugh- 
ter of the Baron. All the nurses, gossips, and country 
cousins, assured her father that she had not her equal 
for beauty in all Germany ; and who should know bet- 
ter than they ? She had, moreover, been brought up 
with great care under the superintendance of two maid- 
en aunts, who had spent some years in their early life 
at one of the little German courts, and were skilled in 
all the branches of knowledge necessary to the educa- 
tion of a fine lady. Under their instructions, she be- 
came a miracle of accomplishments. By the time she 
was eighteen, she could embroider to admiration, and 



* i. e. Cat's-Elbow. The name of a family of those parts very 
powerful in former times. The appellation, we are told, was given 
in compliment to a peerless dame of the family, celebrated for a 
fine arm. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 45 

had worked whole histories o£ the saints in tapestiy, 
with such strength of expression in their countenances, 
that they looked like so many souls in purgatory. She 
could read without great difficulty, and had spelled her 
way through several church legends, and almost all the 
chivalric wonders of the Heldenbuch. She had even 
made considerable proficiency in writing ; could sign her 
own name without missing a letter, and so legibly that 
her aunts could read it without spectacles. She excel- 
led in making little elegant good-for-nothing lady-like 
knicknacks of all kinds ; was versed in the most abs- 
truse dancing of the day ; played a number of airs on 
the harp and guitar ; and knew all the tender ballads of 
the Minnielieders by heart. 

Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and coquettes 
in their younger days, were admirably calculated to be 
vigilant guardians and strict censors of the conduct of 
their niece ; for there is no duenna so rigidly prudent 
and inexorably decorous, as a superannuated coquette. 
She was rarely suffered out of their sight; never went 
beyond the domains of the castle, unless well attended, 
or rather well watched ; had continual lectures read to 
her about strict decorum and implicit obedience ; and, 
as to the men — pah ! — she was taught to hold them at 
such a distance, and in such absolute distrust, that, un- 
less properly authorised, she would not have cast a 
glance upon the handsomest cavalier in the world — no, 
not if he were even dying at her feet. 

The good effects of this system were wonderfully 
apparent. The young lady was a pattern of docility 
and correctness. While others were wasting their 
sweetness in the glare of the world, and liable to be 
plucked and thrown aside by every hand ; she was coy- 
ly blooming into fresh and lovely womanhood under the 
protection of those immaculate spinsters, like a rose- 
bud blushing forth among guardian thorns. Her aunts 
looked upon her with pride and exultation, and vaunted 
that though all the other young ladies in the world 
might go astray, yet, thank Heaven, nothing of the kind 
could happen to the heiress of Katzenellenbogen. 



46 BEAUTIES OF 

But, however scantily the Baron Von Landshort 
might be provided with children, his household was by 
no means a small one ; for Providence had enriched 
him with abundance of poor relations. They, one and 
all, possessed the affectionate disposition common to 
humble relatives ; were wonderfully attached to the 
Baron, and took every possible occasion to come in 
swarms and enliven the castle. All family festivals 
were commemorated by these good people at the Ba- 
ron's expense ; and when they were filled with good 
cheer, they would declare that there was nothing on 
earth so delightful as these family meetings, these jubi- 
lees of the heart. 

The Baron, though a small man, had a large soul, 
and he swelled with satisfaction at the consciousness of 
being the greatest man in the little world about him. 
He loved to tell long stories about the stark old war- 
riors whose portraits looked grimly down from the walls 
around, and he found no listeners equal to those who 
fed at his expense. He was much given to the mar- 
vellous, and a firm believer in all those supernatural 
tales with which every mountain and valley in Ger- 
many abounds. The faith of his guests exceeded even 
his own : they listened to every tale of wonder with 
open eyes and mouth, and never failed to be astonished, 
even though repeated for the hundredth time. Thus 
lived the Baron Von Landshort, the oracle of his table, 
the absolute monarch of his little territory, and happy, 
above all things, in the persuasion that he was the wis- 
est man of the age. 

At the time of which my story treats there was a 
:.reat family gathering at the castle, on an affair of the 
utmost importance. It was to receive the destined 
bridegroom of the Baron's daughter. A negociation 
had been carried on between the father and an old 
nobleman of Bavaria, to unite the dignity of the two 
houses by the marriage of their children. The preli- 
minaries had been conducted with proper punctilio. 
The young people were betrothed without seeing each 
other, and the time was appointed for the marriage 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 47 

ceremony. The young Count Von Altenburgh had 
been recalled from the army for the purpose, and was 
actually on his way to the Baron's to receive his bride. 
Missives had even been received from him from Wurtz- 
burg, where he was accidentally detained, mentioning 
the day and hour when he might be expected to arrive. 

The castle was in a tumult of preparation to give 
him a suitable welcome. The fair bride had been 
decked out with uncommon care. The two aunts had 
superintended her toilet, and quarrelled the whole morn- 
ing about every article of her dress. The young lady 
had taken the advantage of their contest to follow the 
bent of her own taste ; and fortunately it was a good 
one. She looked as lovely as youthful bridegroom 
could desire ; and the flutter of expectation heightened 
the lustre of her charms. 

The suffusions that mantled her face and neck, the 
gentle heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then lost 
in reverie, all betrayed the soft tumult that was going 
on in her little heart. The aunts were continually 
hovering around her ; for maiden aunts are apt to take 
great interest in affairs of this nature. They were 
giving her a world of staid counsel how to deport her- 
self, what to say, and in what manner to receive the 
expected lover. 

The Baron was no less busied in preparations. He 
had, in truth, nothing exactly to do ; but he was natu- 
rally a fuming bustling little man, and could not remain 
passive when all the world was in a hurry. He wor- 
ried from top to bottom of the castle with an air of 
infinite anxiety ; he continually called the servants from 
their work to exhort them to be diligent ; and buzzed 
about every hall and chamber, as idly restless and im- 
portunate as a blue-bottle fly on a warm summer's day. 

In the mean time the fatted calf had been killed, 
the forests had rung with the clamour of the hunts- 
men ; the kitchen was crowded with good cheer ; 
the cellars had yielded up whole oceans of Rhein-wine 
and Ferne-wein ; and even the great Heidelburg tun had 
been laid under contribution. Every thing was ready 



48 BEAUTIES OF 

to receive the distinguished guest with Saus und Braus 
in the true spirit of German hospitality — but the guest 
delayed to make his appearance. Hour rolled after 
hour. The sun that poured his downward rays upon the 
rich forests of the Odenwald, now just gleamed along 
the summits of the mountains. The Baron mounted the 
highest tower, and strained his eyes in hopes of catching 
a distant sight of the Count and his attendants. Once 
he thought he beheld them ; the sound of horns came 
floating from the valley, prolonged by the mountain 
echoes. A number of horsemen were seen far below, 
slowly advancing along the road ; but when they had 
nearly reached the foot of the mountain, they suddenly 
struck off in a different direction. The last ray of 
sunshine departed — the bats began to flit by in the 
twilight — the road grew dimmer and dimmer to the 
view, and nothing appeared stirring in it, but now and 
then a peasant lagging homeward from his labour. 

While the old castle of Landshort was in this state 
of perplexity, a very interesting scene was transacting 
in a different part of the Odenwald. 

The young Count Von Altenburg was tranquilly 
pursuing his route in that sober jog-trot way in which 
a man travels towards matrimony, when his friends have 
taken all the trouble and uncertainty of courtship off his 
hands, and a bride is waiting for him, as certainly as a 
dinner at the end of his journey. He had encountered, 
at Wurtzburg, a youthful companion in arms, with 
whom he had seen some service on the frontiers ; Her- 
mon Von Starkenfaust, one of the stoutest hands and 
worthiest hearts of German chivalry, who was now re- 
turning from the army. His father's castle was not far 
distant from the old fortress of Landshort, although an 
hereditary feud rendered the families hostile, and stran- 
gers to each other. 

In the warm-hearted moment of recognition, the 
young friends related all their past adventures and for- 
tunes, and the Count gave the whole history of his in- 
tended nuptials with a young lady whom he had never 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 49 

seen, but of whose charms he had received the most 
enrapturing descriptions. 

As the route of the friends lay in the same direction, 
they agreed to perform the rest of their journey to- 
gether ; and that they might do it the more leisurely, set 
off from Wurtzburg at an early hour, the Count having 
given directions for his retinue to follow and overtake 
him. 

They beguiled their wayfaring with recollections of 
their military scenes and adventures ; but the Count 
was apt to be a little tedious, now and then, about the 
reputed charms of his bride, and the felicity that await- 
ed him. 

In this way they had entered among the mountains of 
the Odenwald, and were traversing one of its most 
lonely and thickly wooded passes. It is well known 
that the forests of Germany have always been as much 
infested by robbers as its castles by spectres ; and, at 
this time, the former were particularly numerous, from 
the hordes of disbanded soldiers wandering about the 
country. It will not appear extraordinary, therefore, 
that the Cavaliers were attacked by a gang of these 
stragglers, in the depth of the forest. They defended 
themselves with bravery, but were nearly overpowered, 
when the Count's retinue arrived to their assistance. 
At sight of them the robbers fled, but not until the 
Count had received a mortal wound. He was slowly 
and carefully conveyed back to the city of Wurtzburg, 
and a friar summoned from a neighbouring com ent, who 
was famous for his skill in administering to both soul 
and body : but half of his skill was superfluous ; the 
moments of the unfortunate Count were numbered. 

With his dying breath he entreated his friend to re- 
pair instantly to the castle of Landshort, and explain the 
fatal cause of his not keeping his appointment with his 
bride. Though not the most ardent of lovers, he was 
one of the most punctillious of men, and appeared 
earnestly solicitous that this mission should be speedily 
and courteously executed. " Unless this is done," said 
he, " I shall not sleep quietly in my grave !" He re- 

E 



50 BEAUTIES OF 

peated these last words with peculiar solemnity. A 
request, at a moment so impressive, admitted no hesi- 
tation. Starkenfaust endeavoured to soothe him to 
calmness ; promised faithfully to execute his wish, and 
gave him his hand in solemn pledge. The dying man 
pressed it in acknowledgment, but soon lapsed into 
delirium — raved about his bride — his engagements — his 
plighted word ; ordered his horse, that he might ride to 
the castle of Landshort ; and expired in the fancied act 
of vaulting into the saddle. 

Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh, and a soldier's tear, on 
the untimely fate of his comrade ; and then pondered 
on the awkward mission he had undertaken. His heart 
was heavy, and his head perplexed ; for he was to pre- 
sent himself an unbidden guest among hostile people, 
and to damp their festivity with tidings fatal to their 
hopes. Still there were certain whisperings of curiosity 
in his bosom to see this far-famed beauty of Katzen- 
ellenbogen, so cautiously shut up from the world ; for 
he was a passionate admirer of the sex, and there was 
a dash of eccentricity and enterprise in his character 
that made him fond of all singular adventures. 

Previous to his departure he made all due arrange- 
ments with the holy fraternity of the convent for the 
funeral solemnities of his friend, who was to be buried 
in the cathedral of Wurtzburg, near some of his illustri- 
ous relatives ; and the mourning retinue of the Count 
took charge of his remains. 

It is now high time that we should return to the an- 
cient family of Katzenellenbogen, who were impatient 
for their guest, and still more for their dinner ; and to 
the worthy little Baron, whom we left airing himself on 
the watch-tower. 

Night closed in, but still no guest arrived. The Ba- 
ron descended from the tower in despair. The banquet, 
which had been delayed from hour to hour, could no 
longer be postponed. The meats were already over- 
done ; the cook in agony ; and the whole household had 
the look of a garrison that had been reduced by famine. 
The Baron was obliged, reluctantly, to give orders for 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 51 

the feast without the presence of the guest. All were 
seated at table, and just on the point of commencing, 
when the sound of a horn from without the gate gave 
notice of the approach of a stranger. Another long 
blast filled the old court of the castle with its echoes, 
and was answered by the warder from the walls. The 
Baron hastened to receive his future son-in-law. 

The drawbridge had been let down, and the stranger 
was before the gate. He was a tall, gallant cavalier, 
mounted on a black steed. His countenance was pale, 
but he had a beaming, romantic eye, and an air of stately 
melancholy. The Baron was a little mortified that he 
should have come in this simple, solitary style. His 
dignity for a moment was ruffled, and he felt disposed to 
consider it a want of proper respect for the important 
occasion, and the important family with which he was 
to be connected. He pacified himself, however, with 
the conclusion that it must have been youthful impa- 
tience which had induced him thus to spur on sooner 
than his attendants. 

" I am sorry," said the stranger, "to break in upon 
you thus unseasonably — " 

Here the Baron interrupted him with a world of 
compliments and greetings ; for, to tell the truth, he 
prided himself upon his courtesy and his eloquence. — 
The stranger attempted, once or twice, to stem the 
torrent of words, but in vain, so he bowed his head, and 
suffered it to flow on. By the time the Baron had 
come to a pause, they had reached the inner court of the 
castle ; and the stranger was again about to speak, when 
he was once more interrupted by the appearance of the 
female part of the family, leading forth the shrinking 
and blushing bride. He gazed on her for a moment as 
one entranced ; it seemed as if his whole soul beamed 
forth in the gaze, and rested upon that lovely form. 
One of the maiden aunts whispered something in her 
ear ; she made an effort to speak ; her moist blue eye 
was timidly raised ; gave a shy glance of inquiry on the 
stranger; and was cast again on the ground. The 
words died away ; but there was a sweet smile playing 



52 BEAUTIES OF 

about her lips, and a soft dimpling of the cheek that 
showed her glance had not been unsatisfactory. It was 
impossible for a girl of the fond age of eighteen, highly 
predisposed for love and matrimony, not to be pleased 
with so gallant a cavalier. 

The late hour at which the guest had arrived left no 
time for parley. The Baron was peremptory, and de- 
ferred all particular conversation until the morning, and 
led the way to the untasted banquet. 

It was served up in the great hall of the castle. 
Around the walls hung the hard favoured portraits of 
the heroes of the house of Katzenellenbogen and the 
trophies which they had gained in the field and in the 
chase. Hacked corslets, splintered jousting spears, and 
tattered banners, were mingled with the spoils of sylvan 
warfare ; the jaws of the wolf, and the tusks of the 
boar, grinned horribly among cross-bows and battle-axes, 
and a huge pair of antlers branched accidentally over 
the head of the youthful bridegroom. 

The cavalier took but little notice of the company or 
the entertainment. He scarcely tasted the banquet, 
but seemed absorbed in admiration of his bride. He 
conversed in a low tone that could not be overheard — 
for the language of love is never loud ; but where is the 
female ear so dull that it cannot catch the softest whisper 
of the lover? There was a mingled tenderness and 
gravity in his mariner, that appeared to have a powerful 
effect upon the young lady. Her colour came and went 
as she listened with deep attention. ISow and then she 
made some blushing reply, and when his eye was turned 
away, she would steal a side-long glance at his roman- 
tic countenance, and heave a gentle sigh of tender hap- 
piness. It was evident that the young couple were 
completely enamoured. The aunts, who were deeply 
versed in the mysteries of the heart, declared that they 
had fallen in love with each other at first sight. 

The feast went on merrily, or at least noisily, for the 
guests were all blessed with those keen appetites that 
attend upon light purses and mountain air. The Baron 
told his best and longest stories, and never had he told 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 53 

them so well, or with such great effect. If there was 
any thing marvellous, his auditors were lost in astonish- 
ment ; and if any thing facetious, they were sure to 
laugh exactly in the right place. The Baron, it is true, 
like most great men, was too dignified to utter any joke 
but a dull one ; it was always enforced, however, by a 
bumper of excellent hocheimer ; and even a dull joke, 
at one's own table, served up with jolly old wine, is 
irresistible. Many good things were said by poorer and 
keener wits, that would not bear repeating, except on 
similar occasions ; many sly speeches whispered in 
ladies' ears, that almost convulsed them with suppressed 
laughter ; and a song or two roared out by a poor, but 
merry and broadfaced cousin of the Baron, that abso- 
lutely made the maiden aunts hold up their fans. 

Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest maintained 
a most singular and unseasonable gravity. His coun- 
tenance assumed a deeper cast of dejection as the 
evening advanced ; and, strange as it may appear, even 
the Barons jokes seemed only to render him the more 
melancholy. At times he was lost in thought, and at 
times there was a perturbed and restless wandering of 
the eye that bespoke a mind but ill at ease. His con- 
versations with the bride became more and more earnest 
and mysterious. Louring clouds began to steal over the 
fair serenity of her brow, and tremors to run through 
her tender frame. 

All this could not escape the notice of the company. 
Their gaiety was chilled by the unaccountable gloom of 
the bridegroom ; their spirits were infected ; whispers 
and glances were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs 
and dubious shakes of the head. The song and the 
laugh grew less and less frequent ; there were dreary 
pauses in the conversation, which were at length suc- 
ceeded by wild tales and supernatural legends. One 
dismal story produced another more dismal, and the 
Baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hyste- 
rics with the history of the goblin horseman that carried 
away the fair Leonora ; a dreadful but true story, which 
e2 



54 BEAUTIES OF 

has since been put into excellent verse, and is read and 
believed by all the world. 

The bridegroom listened to this tale with profound 
attention. He kept his eyes steadily fixed on the Ba- 
ron, and as the story drew to a close, began gradually to 
rise from his seat, growing taller and taller, until, in the 
Baron's entranced eye, he seemed almost to tower into 
a giant. The moment the tale was finished, he heaved 
a deep sigh, and took a solemn farewell of the company. 
They were all amazement. The Baron was perfectly 
thunderstruck. 

" What ! going to leave the castle at midnight ? why, 
every thing was prepared for his reception ; a chamber 
was ready for him if he wished to retire." 

The stranger shook his head mournfully and myste- 
riously ; " I must lay my head in a different chamber 
to-night !" 

There was something in this reply, and the tone in 
which it was uttered, that made the Baron's heart mis- 
give him ; but he rallied his forces and repeated his hos- 
pitable entreaties. 

The stranger shook his head silently, but positively, 
at every offer ; and, waving his farewell to the company, 
stalked slowly out of the hall. The maiden aunts were 
absolutely petrified — the bride hung her head, and a tear 
stole to her eye. 

The Baron followed the stranger to the great court 
of the castle, where the black charger stood pawing the 
earth, and snorting with impatience. When they had 
reached the portal, whose deep archway was dimly light- 
ed by a cresset, the stranger paused, and addressed the 
Baron in a hollow tone of voice, which the vaulted roof 
rendered still more sepulchral. 

" Now that we are alone," said he, " I will impart to 
you the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an in- 
dispensable engagement — " 

" Why," said the Baron, " cannot you send some one 
in your place ?" 

" It admits of no substitute — I must attend it in 
person — I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral — " 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 55 

" Ay," said the Baron, plucking up spirit, " but not 
until to-morrow — to-morrow you shall take your bride 
there." 

" No ! no !" replied the stranger, with tenfold solem- 
nity, " my engagement is with no bride — the worms ! 
the worms expect me ! I am a dead man — I have been 
slain by robbers — my body lies at Wurtzburg — at mid- 
night I am to be buried — the grave is waiting for me — 
I must keep my appointment !" 

He sprang on his black charger, dashed over the 
drawbridge, and the clattering of his horse's hoofs was 
lost in the whistling of the night blast. 

The Baron returned to the hall in the utmost con- 
sternation, and related what had passed. Two ladies 
fainted outright, others sickened at the idea of having 
banqueted with a spectre. It was the opinion of some, 
that this might be the wild huntsman, famous in Ger- 
man legend. Some talked of mountain sprites, of 
wood-demons, and of other supernatural beings, with 
which the good people of Germany have been so griev- 
ously harassed since time immemorial. One of the 
poor relations ventured to suggest that it might be some 
sportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that the 
very gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord with 
so melancholy a personage. This, however, drew on 
him the indignation of the whole company, and especi- 
ally of the Baron, who looked upon him as little better 
than an infidel; so that he was fain to abjure his heresy 
as speedily as possible, and come into the faith of the 
true believers. 

But whatever may have been the doubts entertained, 
they were completely put to an end by the arrival, next 
day, of regular missives, confirming the intelligence of 
the young Count's murder, and his interment in Wurtz- 
burg cathedral. 

The dismay at the castle may be well imagined. The 
Baron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests, 
who had come to rejoice with him, could not think of 
abandoning him in his distress. They wandered about 
-the courts, or collected in groups in the hall, shaking 



56 BEAUTIES OF 

their heads and shrugging their shoulders, at the troubles 
of so good a man ; and sat longer than ever at table, 
and ate and drank more stoutly than ever, by way of 
keeping up their spirits. But the situation of the 
widowed bride was the most pitiable. To have lost a 
husband before she had even embraced him — and such 
a husband ! if the very spectre could be so gracious and 
noble, what must have been the living man? She 
filled the house with lamentations. 

On the night of the second day of her widowhood she 
had retired to her chamber, accompanied by one of her 
aunts, who insisted on sleeping with her. The aunt, 
who was one of the best tellers of ghost stories in all 
Germany, had just been recounting one of her longest, 
and had fallen asleep in the very midst of it. The 
chamber was remote, and overlooked a small garden. 
The niece lay pensively gazing at the beams of the 
rising moon as they trembled on the leaves of an aspen 
tree before the lattice. The castle clock had just 
tolled mid-night, when a soft strain of music stole up 
from the garden. She rose hastily from her bed, and 
stepped lightly to the window. A tall figure stood 
among the shadows of the trees. As it raised its 
head, a beam of moonlight fell upon the countenance. 
Heaven and earth ! she beheld the Spectre Bridegroom ! 
A loud shriek at that moment burst upon her ear, and 
her aunt, who had been awakened by the music, and 
had followed her silently to the window, fell into her 
arms. When she looked again, the spectre had disap- 
peared. 

Of the two females, the aunt required the most sooth- 
ing, for she was perfectly beside herself with terror. 
As to the young lady, there was something, even in the 
spectre of her lover, that seemed endearing. There 
was still the semblance of manly beauty ; and though 
the shadow of a man is but little calculated to satisfy 
the affections of a love-sick girl, yet, where the sub- 
stance is not to be had, even that is consoling. The 
aunt declared she would never sleep in that chamber 
again ; the niece, for once was refractory, and declared 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 57 

as strongly, that she would sleep in no other in the cas- 
tle : the consequence was, that she had to sleep in it 
alone ; but she drew a promise from her aunt not to 
relate the story of the spectre lest she should be denied 
the only melancholy pleasure left her on earth — that of 
inhabiting the chamber over which the guardian shade 
of her lover kept its nightly vigils. 

How long the good old lady would have observed 
this promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk of 
the marvellous, and there is a triumph in being the first 
to tell a frightful story ; it is, however, still quoted in 
the neighbourhood, as a memorable instance of female 
secrecy, that she kept it to herself for a whole week; 
when she was suddenly absolved from all further re- 
straint, by intelligence brought to the breakfast table 
one morning that the young lady was not to be found. 
Her room was empty — the bed had not been slept in — 
the window was open, and the bird had flown ! 

The astonishment and concern with which the intel- 
ligence was received, can only be imagined by those 
who have witnessed the agitation which the mishaps of 
a great man cause among his friends. Even the poor 
relations paused for a moment from the indefatigable 
labours of the trencher ; when the aunt, who had at first 
been struck speechless, wrung her hands, and shrieked 
out, M The goblin ! the goblin ! she's carried away by the 
goblin !" 

In a few words she related the fearful scene of the 
garden, and concluded that the spectre must have car- 
ried off his bride. Two of the domestics corroborated 
the opinion, for they heard the clattering of a horse's 
hoofs down the mountain about midnight, and had no 
doubt that it was the spectre on his black charger, bear- 
ing her away to the tomb. All present were struck 
with the direful probability ; for events of the kind are 
extremely common in Germany, as many well authen- 
ticated histories bear witness. 

What a lamentable situation was that of the poor 
Baron ! What a heart-rending dilemma for a fond 
father, and a member of the great family of Katzenelen- 



58 BEAUTIES OF 

bogen ! His only daughter had either been wrapt away 
to the grave, or he was to have some wood-demon for 
a son-in-law, and, perchance, a troop of goblin grand 
children ! As usual, he was completely bewildered, 
and all the castle in an uproar. The men were ordered 
to take horse, and scour every road and path and glen 
of the Odenwald. The Baron himself had just drawn 
on his jackboots, girded on his sword, and was about to 
mount his steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest, 
when he was brought to a pause by a new apparition. 
A lady was seen approaching the castle, mounted on a 
palfray, attended by a cavalier on horseback. She gal- 
loped up to the gate, sprang from the horse, and falling 
at the Baron's feet, embraced his knees. It was his 
lost daughter, and her companion — the Spectre Bride- 
groom ! The Baron was astonished. He looked at 
his daughter, then at the spectre, and almost doubted 
the evidence of his senses. The latter, too, was won- 
derfully improved in his appearance since his visit to 
the world of spirits. His dress was splendid, and set 
off a noble figure of manly symmetry. He was no lon- 
ger pale and melancholy. His fine countenance was 
flushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted in his 
large dark eye. 

The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier, 
(for in truth, as you must have known all the while, he 
was no goblin) announced himself as Sir Herman Von 
Starkenfaust. He related his adventure with the young 
Count. He told how he had hastened to the castle to 
deliver the unwelcome tidings, but that the eloquence 
of the Baron had interrupted him in every attempt to 
tell his tale. How the sight of the bride had complete- 
ly captivated him, and that to pass a few hours near her, 
he had tacitly suffered the mistake to continue. How 
he had been sorely perplexed in what way to make a de- 
cent retreat, until the Baron's goblin stories had suggest- 
ed his eccentric exit. How, fearing the feudal hostility 
of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth — had 
haunted the garden beneath the young lady's window — 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 59 

had wooed — had won — had borne away in triumph — 
and, in a word, had wedded the fair. 

Under any other circumstances, the Baron would 
have been inflexible, for he was tenacious of paternal 
authority, and devoutly obstinate in all family feuds ; 
but he loved his daughter ; he had lamented her as lost; 
he rejoiced to find her still alive ; and, though her hus- 
band was of hostile house, yet, thank heaven, he was 
not a goblin. There was something, it must be ac- 
knowledged, that did not exactly accord with his notions 
of strict veracity, in the joke the knight had passed upon 
him of his being a dead man ; but several old friends 
present, who had served in the wars, assured him that 
every stratagem was excusable in love, and that the ca- 
valier was entitled to especial privilege, having lately 
served as a trooper. 

Matters, therefore, were happily arranged. The Ba- 
ron pardoned the young couple on the spot. The revels 
at the castle were resumed. The poor relations over- 
whelmed this new member of the family with loving 
kindness ; he was so gallant, so generous — and so rich. 
The aunts, it is true, were somewhat scandalized that 
their system of strict seclusion, and passive obedience, 
should be so badly exemplified, but attributed it all to 
their negligence in not having the windows grated. 
One of them was particularly mortified at having her 
marvellous story marred, and that the only spectre she 
had ever seen should turn out a counterfeit ; but the 
niece seemed perfectly happy at having found him sub- 
stantial flesh and blood — and so the story ends. 



A WET SUNDAY IN A COUNTRY INN. 

It was a rainy Sunday, in the gloomy month of Novem- 
ber. I had been detained, in the course of a journey, 
by a slight indisposition, from which I was recovering ; 
but I was still feverish, and was obliged to keep within 
doors all day, in an inn of the small town of Derby. 



60 BEAUTIES OF 

A wet Sunday in a country inn ! whoever has had the 
luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation. 
The rain pattered against the casements; the bells 
tolled for church with melancholy sound. I went to 
the windows in quest of something to amuse the eye ; 
but it seemed as if I had been placed completely out of 
the reach of all amusement. The windows of my bed- 
room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chim- 
neys, while those of my sitting-room commanded a full 
view of the stable-yard. I know of nothing more cal- 
culated to make a man sick of this world than a stable- 
yard on a rainy day. The place was littered with wet 
straw that had been kicked about by travellers and stable- 
boys. In one corner was a stagnant pool of water, sur- 
rounding an island of muck ; there were several half- 
drowned fowls crowded together under a cart, among 
which was a miserable crest fallen cock, drenched out of 
all life and spirits : his drooping tail matted, as it were, 
into a single feather, along which the water trickled 
from his back ; near the cart was a half dozing cow, 
chewing the cud, and standing patiently to be rained on, 
with wreaths of vapour rising from her reeking hide ; a 
wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness of the stable, 
was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the 
rain dripping on it from the eaves; an unhappy cur, 
chained to a doghouse hard by, uttered something every 
now and then, between a bark and a yelp ; a drab of a 
kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards through 
the yard in pattens, looking as sulky as the weather it- 
self; every thing, in short, was comfortless and forlorn, 
excepting a crew of hard-drinking ducks, assembled like 
boon companions round a puddle, and making a riotous 
noise over their liquor. 

I was lonely and listless, and wanted amusement. 
My room soon became insupportable. I abandoned it, 
and sought what is technically called the traveller's-room. 
This is a public room set apart at most inns for the ac- 
commodation of a class of wayfarers, called travellers, 
or riders ; a kind of commercial knights-errant, who are 
incessantly scouring the kingdom in gigs, on horseback, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 61 

or by coach. They are the only successors that I know of, 
at the present day, to the knights-errant of yore. They 
lead the same kind of roving adventurous life, only 
changing the lance for a driving- whip, the buckler for a 
pattern-card, and the coat of mail for an upper Benja- 
min. Instead of vindicating the charms of peerless 
beauty, they rove about, spreading the fame and stand- 
ing of some substantial tradesman, or manufacturer, and 
are ready at any time to bargain in his name ; it being 
the fashion now-a-days to trade, instead of fight, with 
one another. As the room of the hostel, in the good 
old fighting times, would be hung round at night with 
the armour of way-worn warriors, such as coats of mail, 
falchions, and yawning helmets ; so the travellers' room 
is garnished with the harnessing of their successors, 
with box coats, whips of all kinds, spurs, gaiters, and 
oil-cloth covered hats. 

I was in hopes of finding some of these worthies to 
talk with, but was dissappointed. There were, indeed, 
two or three in the room ; but I could make nothing of 
them. One was just finishing breakfast, quarrelling 
with his bread and butter, and huffing the waiter; another 
buttoned on a pair of gaiters, with many execrations at 
Boots for not having cleaned his shoes well ; a third sat 
drumming on the table with his fingers and looking at 
the rain as it streamed down the window-glass ; they all 
appeared infected by the weather, and disappeared, one 
after the other, without exchanging a word. 

I sauntered to the window and stood gazing at the 
people, picking their way to the church, with petti- 
coats hoisted midleg high, and dripping umbrellas. The 
bell ceased to toll, and the streets became silent. I 
then amused myself with watching the daughters of a 
tradesman opposite ; who being confined to the house 
for fear of wetting their Sunday finery, played off their 
charms at the front windows, to fascinate the chance 
tenants of the inn. They at length were summoned, 
away by a vigilant vinegar-faced mother, and I had 
nothing further from without to amuse me. 

What was I to do to pass away the long-lived day ? 

F 



62 BEAUTIES OF 

I was sadly nervous and lonely ; and every thing about 
an inn seems calculated to make a dull day ten times 
duller. Old newspapers, smelling of beer and tobacco 
smoke, and which I had already read half a dozen times. 
Good for nothing books, that were worse than rainy 
weather. I bored myself to death with an old volume 
of the Lady's Magazine. I read all the common-place 
names of ambitious travellers scrawled on the panes of 
glass ; the eternal families of the Smiths and the Browns, 
and the Jacksons, and the Johnsons, and all the other 
sons ; and I decyphered several scraps of fatiguing inn- 
window poetry, which I have met with in all parts of 
the world. 

The day continued lowering and gloomy; the slovenly, 
ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily along ; there was no 
variety even in the rain ; it was one dull, continued, mono- 
tonous patter — patter — patter, excepting that now and 
then I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, 
from the rattling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. 

It was quite refreshing (if I maybe allowed a hackneyed 
phrase of the day), when, in the course of the morning, a 
horn blew, and a stage coach whirled through the street, 
with outside passengers stuck all over it, cowering un- 
der cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, and reeking 
with the steams of wet box-coats and upper Benjamins. 

The sound brought out from their lurking-places a 
crew of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the car- 
roty-headed hostler, and that non-descript animal ycleped 
Boots, and all the other vagabond race that infest the 
purlieus of an inn ; but the bustle was transient ; the 
coach again whirled on its way ; and boy and dog, host- 
ler and Boots, all slunk back again to their holes ; the 
street again became silent, and the rain continued to 
rain on. In fact, there was no hope of its clearing up, 
the barometer pointed to rainy weather ; mine hostess's 
tortoise-shell cat sat by the fire washing her face, and 
rubbing her paws over her ears ; and on referring to the 
Almanack, I found a direful prediction stretching from 
the top of the page to the bottom through the whole 
month, "expect — much- — rain — about — this — time !" 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 63 



A DESIRABLE MATCH. 

Among the musical disciples who assembled, one 
evening in each week, to receive his (Ichabod Crane's) 
instructions in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the 
daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. 
She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen ; plump as a 
partridge ; ripe and melting and rosy cheeked as one of 
her father's peaches, and universally famed, not merely 
for her beauty, but her vast expectations. She was 
withal a little of a coquette, as might be perceived even 
in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and mo- 
dern fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. 
She wore the ornaments of pure yellow gold, which 
her great-great-grandmother had brought over from 
Saardum ; the tempting stomacher of the olden time ; 
and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the 
prettiest foot and ankle in the country round. 

Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart toward 
the sex ; and it is not to be wondered at, that so 
tempting a morsel soon found favour in his eyes ; more 
especially after he had visited her in her paternal man- 
sion. Old Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture of 
a thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He sel- 
dom, it is true, sent either his eyes or his thoughts be- 
yond the boundaries of his own farm ; but within those 
every thing was snug, happy, and well-conditioned. 
He was satisfied with his wealth, but not proud of it ; 
and piqued himself upon the hearty abundance, rather 
than the style in which he lived. His strong hold was 
situated on the banks of the Hudson, in one of those 
green, sheltered, fertile nooks, in which the Dutch 
farmers are so fond of nestling. A great elm-tree 
spread its broad branches over it ; at the foot of which 
bubbled up a spring of the softest and sweetest water, 
in a little well, formed of a barrel; and then stole 
sparkling away through the grass, to a neighbouring 
brook, that babbled along among alders and dwarf 
willows. Hard by the farm house was a vast barn, that 



64 BEAUTIES OF 

might have served for a church ; every window and 
crevice of which seemed bursting forth with the 
treasures of the farm ; the flail was busily resounding 
within from morning to night ; swallows and martins 
skimmed twittering about the eaves ; and rows of 
pigeons, some with one eye turned up, as if watching 
the weather, some with their heads under their wings or 
buried in their bosoms, and others swelling, and cooing, 
and bowing, about their dames, were enjoying the sun- 
shine on the roof. Sleek unwieldy porkers were grunting 
in the repose and abundance of their pens ; from whence 
sallied forth, now and then, troops of sucking pigs, as if 
to snuff the air. A stately squadron of snowy geese 
were riding in an adjoining pond, convoying whole fleets 
of ducks ; regiments of turkeys were gobbling through 
the farm-yard, and guinea fowls fretting about it, like 
ill-tempered house-wives, with their peevish discon- 
tented cry. Before the ban. door strutted the gallant 
cock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior, and a fine 
gentleman ; clapping his burnished wings, and crowing 
in the pride and gladness of his heart — sometimes tear- 
ing up the earth with his feet, and then generously calling 
his ever hungry family of wives and children to enjoy 
the rich morsel which he had discovered. 

The pedagogue's mouth watered, as he looked upon 
this sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In 
his devouring mind's eye, he pictured to himself every 
roasting pig running about with a pudding in its belly, 
and an apple in its mouth ; the pigeons were snugly put 
to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a cover- 
let of crust ; the geese were swimming in their own 
gravy ; and the ducks pairing cosily in dishes, like snug 
married couples, with a decent competency of onion 
sauce. In the porkers he saw carved out the future 
sleek side of bacon ami juicy relishing ham ; not a tur- 
key but he beheld daintily trussed up, with its gizzard 
under its wing, and, peradventure, a necklace of savoury 
sausages ; and even bright chanticleer himself lay sprawl- 
ing on his back, in a side dish, with uplifted claws, as 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 65 

if craving that quarter which his chivalrous spirit dis- 
dained to ask while living. 

As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he 
rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands, 
the rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buck- wheat, and In- 
dian corn, and the orchards burthened with ruddy fruit, 
which surrounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, 
his heart yearned after the damsel who was to inherit 
these domains, and his imagination expanded with the 
idea, how they might be readily turned into cash, and 
the money invested in immense tracts of wild land, and 
shingle palaces in the wilderness. Nay, his busy fancy 
already realized his hopes, and presented to him the 
blooming Katrina, with a whole family of children, 
mounted on the top of a waggon loaded with household 
trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath ; and 
he beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt 
at her heels, setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee, or 
the Lord knows where. 

A Rival 

Among these the most formidable was a burly, roaring, 
roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or according 
to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of 
the country round, which rung with his feats of strength 
and hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double- 
jointed, with short curly black hair, and a bluff, but not 
unpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and 
arrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers 
of limb, he had received the nick-name of Brom Bones, 
by which he was universally known. He was famed for 
great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dex- 
terous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at 
all races and cock-fights ; and, with the ascendancy which 
bodily strength always acquires in rustic life, was the 
umpire in all disputes, setting his hat on one side, and 
giving his decisions with an air and tone that admitted 
of no gainsay or appeal. He was always ready for either 
a fight or a frolic ; had more mischief than ill-will in his 
f2 



66 BEAUTIES OF 

composition; and with all his overbearing roughness, 
there was a strong dash of waggish good humour at bot- 
tom. He had three or four boon companions of his own 
stamp, who regarded him as their model, and at the head 
of whom he scoured the country, attending every scene 
of feud or merriment for miles round. In cold weather 
he was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a 
Haunting fox's tail ; and when the folks at a country 
gathering descried this well-known crest at a distance, 
whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they al- 
ways stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would 
be heard dashing along past the farm-houses at midnight, 
with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks ; 
and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would 
listen for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered 
by, and then exclaim, " Aye their goes Brom Bones and 
his gang!" The neighbours looked upon him with a 
mixture of awe, admiration, and good- will ; and when 
any mad-cap prank, or rustic brawl, occurred in the 
vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted Brom 
Bones was at the bottom of it. 

This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the 
blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallant- 
ries, and though his amorous toyings were something 
like the gentle caresses and endearments of a bear, yet 
it was whispered that she did not altogether discourage 
his hopes. Certain it is, his advances were signals for 
rival candidates to retire, who felt no inclination to cross 
a lion in his amours ; insomuch, that when his horse was 
seen tied to Van Tassel's paling, on a Sunday night, a 
sure sign that his master was courting, or, as it is 
termed, " sparkling," within, all other suitors passed by 
in despair, and carried the war into other quarters. 

Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod 
Crane had to contend, and, considering all things, a 
stouter man than he would have shrunk from the com- 
petition, and a wiser man would have despaired. He 
had a happy mixture of pliability and perseverance in his 
nature ; he was in form and spirit like a supple-jack — I 
yielding, but tough; though he bent, he never broke; I 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 67 

and though he bowed beneath the slightest pressure, 
yet, the moment it was away, jerk ! — he was as erect, 
and carried his head as high as ever. 

Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his na- 
ture, would fain have carried matters to open warfare, 
and have settled their pretensions to the lady, according 
to the mode of those most concise and simple reasoners, 
the knights-errant of yore — by single combat ; but Icha- 
bod was too conscious of the superior might of his adver- 
sary to enter the lists against him : he had overheard the 
boast of Bones, that he would " double the schoolmaster 
up, and put him on a shelf;" and he was too wary to 
give him an opportunity. There was something ex- 
tremely provoking in this obstinately pacific system ; it 
left Brom no alternative but to draw upon the funds of 
rustic waggery in his disposition, and to play off boorish 
practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod became the ob- 
ject of whimsical persecution to Bones and his gang of 
rough riders. They harried his hitherto peaceful do- 
mains ; smoked out his singing school, by stopping up 
the chimney; broke into the schoolhouse at night, in 
spite of its formidable fastenings of withes and window 
stakes, and tinned every thing topsy-turvy ; so that the 
poor schoolmaster began to think all the witches in the 
country held their meetings there. But what was still 
more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning 
him into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a 
scoundrel dog whom he taught to whine in the most 
ludicrous manner, and introduced as a rival of Ichabod's 
to instruct her in psalmody. 

An Invitation, 

In this way matters went on for some time, without 
producing any material effect on the relative situations of 
the contending powers. On a fine autumnal afternoon, 
Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on the lofty 
stool from whence he usually watched all the concerns of 
his little literary realm. In his hand he swayed a feride, 
that sceptre of despotic power; the birch of justice re- 



68 BEAUTIES OF 

posed on three nails behind the throne, a constant terror 
to evil doers ; while on the desk before him might be seen 
sundry contraband articles and prohibited weapons, de- 
tected upon the persons of idle urchins, such as half- 
munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole 
legions of rampant little paper game cocks. Apparently 
there had been some appalling act of justice recently in- 
flicted, for his scholars were all busily intent upon their 
books, or slyly whispering behind them with one eye kept 
upon the master ; and a kind of buzzing stillness reigned 
throughout the school-room. It was suddenly inter- 
rupted by the appearance of a negro in tow-cloth jacket 
and trowsers, a round crowned fragment of a hat, like 
the cap of Mercury, and mounted on the back of a ragged, 
wild, half-broken colt, which he managed with a rope by 
way of halter. He came clattering up to the school door 
with an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merry meeting, 
or " quilting frolic," to be held that evening at Mynheer 
Van Tassel's ; and having delivered his message with that 
air of importance and effort at fine language which a 
negro is apt to display on petty embassies of the kind, he 
dashed over the brook, and was seen scampering away 
up the hollow, full of the importance and hurry of his 
mission. 

All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet school- 
room. The scholars were hurried through their lessons, 
without stopping at trifles ; those who were nimble 
skipped over half with impunity, and those who were 
tardy had a smart application now and then in the rear, 
to quicken their speed or help them over a tall word. 
Books were flung aside without being put away on the 
shelves ; inkstands were overturned ; benches thrown 
down ; and the whole school was turned loose an hour 
before the usual time, bursting forth like a legion of 
young imps, yelping and racketing about the green, in 
joy at their early emancipation. 

A Dutch Entertainment 

Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and 
" sugared suppositions," he journeyed along the sides of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 69 

a range of hills which look out upon some of the goodliest 
scenes of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually wheeled 
his broad disk down into the west. The wide bosom of 
the Tappaan Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting 
that here and there a gentle undulation waved and pro- 
longed the blue shadow of the distant mountain. A few 
amber clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air 
to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, 
changing gradually into a pure apple green, and from 
that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven. A slanting 
ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that 
overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth 
to the dark grey and purple of her rocky sides. A sloop 
was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly down with 
the tide, her sail hanging uselessly against the mast ; and 
as the reflection of the sky gleamed along the still water, 
it seemed as if the vessel was suspended in the air. 

It was toward evening when Ichabod arrived at the 
castle of the Heer Van Tassel, which he found thronged 
with the pride and flower of the adjacent country. Old 
farmers, a spare leathern -faced race, in homespun coats 
and breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, and magnifi- 
cent pewter buckles. Their brisk, withered, little dames 
in close-crimped caps, long-waisted short-gowns, home- 
spun petticoats, with scissors and pincushions, and gay 
calico pockets, hanging on the outside. Buxom lasses, 
almost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting where 
a straw hat, a fine ribband, or perhaps a white frock, gave 
symptoms of city innovations. The sons in short square- 
skirted coats, with rows of stupendous brass buttons, 
and their hair generally queued in the fashion of the 
times, especially if they could procure an eel-skin for the 
purpose, it being esteemed throughout the country, as 
a potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair. 

Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, 
having come to the gathering on his favourite steed 
Dare-devil, a creature like himself, full of mettle and 
mischief, and which no one but himself could manage. 
He was, in fact, noted for preferring vicious animals, 
given to ail kinds of tricks which kept the rider in con- 



70 BEAUTIES OF 

stant risk of his neck, for he held a tractable well- 
broken horse as unworthy of a lad of spirit. 

Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms 
that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he 
entered the state parlour of Van Tassel's mansion. Not 
those of the bevy buxom lasses, with their luxurious dis- 
play of red and white ; but the ample charms of a genu- 
ine Dutch country tea-table, in the sumptuous time of 
autumn. Such heaped up platters of cakes of various 
and almost indescribable kinds, known only to experi- 
enced Dutch housewives ! There was the doughty 
dough-nut, the tenderer oly koek, and the crisp and 
crumbling cruller ; sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger 
cakes and honey cakes, and the whole family of cakes. 
And then there were apple pies and peach pies and 
pumpkin pies ; besides slices of ham and smoked beef; 
and moreover, delectable dishes of preserved plums, and 
peaches, and pears, and quinces ; not to mention broiled 
shad and roasted chickens ; together with bowls of milk 
and cream ; all mingled higgeldy-piggeldy, pretty much 
as I have enumerated them, with the motherly tea-pot 
sending up its clouds of vapour from the midst — 
Heaven bless the mark ! I want breath and time to dis- 
cuss this banquet as it deserves, arid am too eager to get 
on with my story. Happily Ichabod Crane was not in 
so great a hurry as his historian, but did ample justice 
to every dainty. 

He was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart 
dilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good 
cheer ; and whose spirits rose with eating as some men's 
do with drink. He could not help, too, rolling hisj 
large eyes round him as he ate, and chuckling with the 
possibility that he might one day be lord of all thia 
scene of almost unimaginable luxury and splendourJ 
Then, he thought, how soon he'd turn his back upoif 
the old school house; snap his fingers in the face of Hans 
Van Ripper, and every other niggardly patron, and kick 
any itinerant pedagogue out of doors that should dare td 
call him comrade ! 

Old Bultus Van Tassal moved about among kil 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 71 

guests with a face dilated with content and good hu- 
mour, round and jolly as the harvest moon. His hos- 
pitable attentions were brief, but expressive, being con- 
fined to a shake of the hand, a slap on the shoulder, a 
loud laugh, and a pressing invitation to " fall to, and 
help themselves." 

Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as 
upon his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about 
him was idle ; and to have seen his loosely hung frame in 
full motion, and clattering about the room, you would 
have thought Saint Vitus himself, that blessed patron of 
the dance, was figuring before you in person. He was 
the admiration of all the negroes ; who, having gathered, 
of all ages and sizes, from the farm and the neighbour- 
hood, stood forming a pyramid of shining black faces at 
every door and window ; gazing with delight at the 
scene ; rolling their white eye-balls, and showing grin- 
ning rows of ivory from ear to ear. How could the 
flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and 
joyous? the lady of his heart was his partner in the 
dance, and smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous 
oglings ; while Brom Bones, sorely smitten with love 
and jealousy, sat brooding by himself in one corner. 



WAR. 



The first conflict between man and man was the mere 
exertion of physical force, unaided by auxiliary weapons 
— his arm was his buckler, his fist was his mace, and a 
broken head the catastrophe of his encounters. The 
battle of unassisted strength was succeeded by the more 
rugged one of stones and clubs, and war assumed a san- 
guinary aspect. As man advanced in refinement, as 
his faculties expanded, and his sensibilities became more 
exquisite, he grew rapidly more ingenious and experienc- 
ed in the art of murdering his fellow beings. He in- 
vented a thousand devices to defend and to assault — the 
helmet, the cuirass, and the buckler, the sword, the 



72 BEAUTIES OF 

dart, and the javelin, prepared him to elude the wound, 
as well as to launch the blow. Still urging on, in the 
brilliant and philanthropic career of invention, he en- 
larges and heightens his powers of defence and injury. — 
The aries, the scorpio, the balista, and the catapulta, 
give a horror and a sublimity to war ; and magnify its 
glory by increasing its desolation. Still insatiable, though 
armed with machinery that seemed to reach the limits of 
destructive invention, and to yield a power of injury, 
commensurate even with the desire of revenge — still 
deeper researches must be made in the diabolical arcana. 
With furious zeal he dives into the bowels of the earth; 
he toils midst poisonous minerals and deadly salts — the 
sublime discovery of gunpowder blazes upon the world 
— and, finally, the dreadful art of fighting by proclama- 
tion seems to endow the demon of war with ubiquity 
and omnipotence. 

This, indeed, is grand ! — this, indeed, marks the 
powers of mind, and bespeaks that divine endowment of 
reason which distinguishes us from the animals, our 
inferiors. The unenlightened brutes content themselves 
with the native force which providence has assigned 
them. The angry bull butts with his horns, as did his 
progenitors before him — the lion, the leopard, and the 
tiger, seek only with their talons and their fangs to gra- 
tify their sanguinary fury; and even the subtle serpent 
darts the same venom, and uses the same wiles, as did 
his sire before the flood. Man alone, blessed with the 
inventive mind, goes on from discovery to discovery — 
enlarges and multiplies his powers of destruction ; arro- 
gates the tremendous weapons of Deity itself, and tasks 
creation to assist him in murdering his brother worm ! 



ENGLISH STAGE COACHMEN. 

And here, perhaps, it may not be unacceptable to my 
untravelled readers, to have a sketch that may serve as 
a general representation of this very numerous and im- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 73 

portant class of functionaries, who have a dress, a man- 
ner, a language, an air, peculiar to themselves, and pre- 
valent throughout the fraternity ; so that, wherever an 
English stage coachman may be seen, he cannot be 
mistaken for one of any other craft or mystery. 

He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mot- 
tled with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard 
feeding into every vessel of the skin ; he is swelled 
into jolly dimensions by frequent potations of malt 
liquors, and his bulk is still further increased by a muU 
tiplicity of coats, in which he is buried like a cauli- 
flower, the upper one reaching to his heels. He wears 
a broad-brimmed low-crowned hat ; a huge roll of co- 
loured handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted 
and tucked in at the bosom ; and has in summer time a 
large bouquet of flowers in his button-hole ; the present, 
most probably, of some enamoured country lass. His 
waistcoat is commonly of some bright colour, stripped, 
and his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to 
meet a pair of jockey boots which reach about half way 
up his legs. 

All this costume is maintained with much precision ; 
he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent mate- 
rials ; and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of 
his appearance, there is still discernable that neatness 
and propriety of person, which is almost inherent in an 
Englishman. He enjoys great consequence and consi- 
deration along the road ; has frequent conferences with 
the village housewives, who look upon him as a man of 
great trust and dependence ; and he seems to have a 
good understanding with every bright-eyed country lass. 
The moment he arrives where the horses are to be 
changed, he throws down the reins with something of 
an air, and abandons the cattle to the care of the hostler ; 
his duty being merely to drive from one stage to ano- 
ther. When off the box, his hands are thrust into the 
pockets of his great coat, and he rolls about the inn 
yard with an air of the most absolute lordliness. Here 
he is generally surrounded by an admiring throng of 
hostlers, stable-boys, shoeblacks, and those nameless 



74 BEAUTIES OF 

hangers-on that infest inns and taverns, and run er- 
rands, and do all kinds of odd jobs, for the privilege of 
battening on the drippings of the kitchen and the leakage 
of the tap-room. These all look up to him as to an ora- 
cle ; treasure up his cant phrases ; echo his opinions 
about horses and other topics of jockey lore ; and above 
all, endeavour to imitate his air and carriage. Every 
ragamuffin, that has a coat to his back, thrusts his hands 
in the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an 
embryo Coachey. 



THE ADVENTURE OF THE 
ENGLISHMAN. 

In the morning all was bustle in the inn at Terraci- 
na. The procaccio had departed at day-break on its 
route towards Rome, but the Englishman was yet to 
start, and the departure of an English equipage is al- 
ways enough to keep an inn in a bustle. On this oc- 
casion there was more than usual stir, for the English- 
man, having much property about him, and having been 
convinced of the real danger of the wad, had applied 
to the police, and obtained, by dint of liberal pay, an 
escort of eight dragoons and twelve foot soldiers, as far 
as Fondi. Perhaps, too, there might have been a little 
ostentation at bottom, though, to say the truth, he had 
nothing of it in his manner. He moved about, taciturn 
and reserved as usual, among the gaping crowd ; gave 
laconic orders to John, as he packed away the thousand 
and one indispensable conveniencies of the night ; dou- 
ble loaded his pistols with great sang froid, and depo- 
sited them in the pockets of the carriage, taking no 
notice of a pair of keen eyes gazing on him from among 
the herd of loitering idlers. 

The fair Venetian now came up with a request, made 
in her dulcet tones, that he would permit their carriage 
to proceed under protection of his escort. The Eng- 
lishman, who was busy loading another pair of pistols i 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 75 

for his servant, and held the ramrod between his teeth, 
nodded assent, as a matter of course, but without lifting 
up his eyes. The fair Venetian was a little piqued at 
what she supposed indifference : — " O Dio !" ejaculated 
she softly as she retired, " Quanto sono insensibili 
questi InglesL" 

At length, off they set in gallant style. The eight 
dragoons prancing in front, the twelve foot soldiers 
marching in rear, and the carriage moving slowly in the 
centre to enable the infantry to keep pace with them. 
They had proceeded but a few hundred yards, when it 
was discovered that some indispensable article had been 
left behind. In fact, the Englishman's purse was mis- 
sing, and John was despatched to the inn to search for 
it. This occasioned a little delay, and the carriage of 
the Venetians drove slowly on. John came back out 
of breath and out of humour. The purse was not to 
be found. His master was irritated : he recollected 
the very place where it lay : he had not a doubt that 
the Italian servant had pocketed it. John was again 
sent back. He returned once more without the purse, 
but with the landlord and the whole household at his 
heels. A thousand ejaculations and protestations, ac- 
companied by all sorts of grimaces and contortions — 
" No purse had been seen — his excellenza must be mis- 
taken." 

" No — his excellenza was not mistaken — the purse 
lay on the marble table, under the mirror, a green purse, 
half full of gold and silver." Again a thousand grim- 
aces and contortions, and vows by San Gennaro, that 
no purse of the kind had been seen. 

The Englishman became furious. " The waiter had 
pocketed it — the landlord was a knave — the inn a den 
of thieves — it was a vile country — he had been cheated 
and plundered from one end of it to the other — but he'd 
have satisfaction — he'd drive right off to the police." 

He was on the point of ordering the postilions to turn 
back, when, on rising, he displaced the cushion of the 
carriage, and the purse of money fell chinking to the 
floor. 



76 BEAUTIES OF 

All the blood in his body seemed to rush into his 
face — " Curse the purse," said he, as he snatched it up. 
He dashed a handful of money on the ground before 
the pale cringing waiter — " There — be off!" cried he. 
"John, order the postilions to drive on." 

Above half an hour bad been exhausted in this alter- 
cation. The Venetian carriage had loitered along ; its 
passengers looking out from time to time, and expect- 
ing the escort every moment to follow. They had gra- 
dually turned an angle of the road that shut them out 
of sight. The little army was again in motion, and 
made a very picturesque appearance as it wound along 
at the bottom of the rocks ; the morning sunshine 
beaming upon the weapons of the soldiery. 

The Englishman lolled back in his carriage, vexed 
with himself at what had passed, and consequently out 
of humour with all the world. As this, however, is 
no uncommon case with gentlemen who travel for their 
pleasure, it is hardly worthy of remark. They had 
wound up from the coast among the hills, and came to 
a part of the road that admitted of some prospect ahead. 

" I see nothing of the lady's carriage, sir," said John, 
leaning down from the coach-box. 

" Pish !" said the Englishman, testily — " don't plague 
me about the lady's carriage; must I be continually 
pestered with the concerns of strangers ?" John said 
not another word, for he understood his master's mood. 

The road grew more wild and lonely; they were 
slowly proceeding on a foot pace up a hill ; the dragoons 
were some distance ahead, and had just reached the 
summit of the hill, when they uttered an exclamation, 
or rather shout, and galloped forward. The English- 
man was roused from his sulky reverie — He stretched 
his head from the carriage, which had attained the brow 
of the hill. Before him extended a long hollow defile, 
commanded on one side by rugged precipitous heights, 
covered with bushes and scanty forest. At some dis- 
tance he beheld the carriage of the Venetians over- 
turned ; a numerous gang of desperadoes were rifling 
it; the young man and his servant were overpowered. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 77 

and partly stripped, and the lady was in the hands of 
two of the ruffians. The Englishman seized his pis- 
tols, sprung from the carriage, and called upon John to 
follow him. 

In the meantime, as the dragoons came forward, the 
robbers, who were busy with the carriage, quitted their 
spoil, formed themselves in the middle of the road, and 
taking a deliberate aim, fired. One of the dragoons 
fell, another was wounded, and the whole were for a 
moment checked and thrown in confusion. The rob- 
bers loaded again in an instant. The dragoons dis- 
charged their carbines, but without apparent effect. 
They received another volley, which, though none fell, 
threw them again into confusion. The robbers were 
loading a second time, when they saw the foot soldiers 
at hand " Scampa via /" was the word : they aban- 
doned their prey, and retreated up the rocks, the sol- 
diers after them. They fought from cliff to cliff, and 
bush to bush, the robbers turning every now and then 
to fire upon their pursuers ; the soldiers scrambling after 
them, and discharging their muskets whenever they 
could get a chance. Sometimes a soldier or a robber 
was shot down, and came tumbling among the cliffs. 
The dragoons kept firing from below whenever a rob- 
ber came in sight. 

The Englishman had hastened to the scene of action, 
and the balls discharged at the dragoons had whistled 
past him as he advanced. One object, however, en- 
grossed his attention. It was the beautiful Venetian 
lady in the hands of two of the robbers, who, during 
the confusion of the fight, carried her shrieking up the 
mountain. He saw her dress gleaming among the 
bushes, and he sprang up the rocks to intercept the 
robbers, as they bore off their prey. The ruggedness y. 
of the steep, and the entanglements of the bushes, de- " 
layed and impeded him. He lost sight of the lady, but - 
was still guided by her cries, which grew fainter and 
fainter. They were off to the left, while the reports 
of muskets showed that the battle was raging to the 
right. At length he came upon what appeared to be a 
g2 



78 BEAUTIES OF 

rugged footpath, faintly worn in a gully of the rocks, 
and beheld the ruffians at some distance hurrying the 
lady up the defile. One of them hearing his approach, 
let go his prey, advanced towards him, and levelling the 
carbine, which had been slung on his back, fired. The 
ball whizzed through the Englishman's hat, and carried 
with it some of his hair. He returned the fire with 
one of his pitols, and the robber fell. The other bri- 
gand now dropped the lady, and drawing a long pistol 
from his belt, fired on his adversary with deliberate aim. 
The ball passed between his left arm and his side, 
slightly wounding the arm. The Englishman ad- 
vanced, and discharged his remaining pistol, which 
wounded the robber, but not severely. 

The brigand drew a stiletto and rushed upon his ad- 
versary, who eluded the blow, receiving merely a slight 
wound, and defended himself with his pistol, which had 
a spring bayonet. They closed with one another, and 
a desperate struggle ensued. The robber was a square- 
built, thick-set man, powerful, muscular, and active. 
The Englishman, though of larger frame and greater 
strength, was less active and less accustomed to ath- 
letic exercises and feats of hardihood, but he showed 
himself practised and skilled in the arts of defence. 
They were on a craggy height, and the Englishman 
perceived that his antagonist was striving to press him 
to the edge. A side glance showed him also the rob- 
ber whom he had first wounded, scrambling up to the 
assistance of his comrade, stiletto in hand. He had in 
fact attained the summit of the cliff, he was within a 
few steps, and the Englishman felt that his case was 
desperate, when he heard suddenly the report of a pis- 
tol, and the ruffian fell. The shot came from John, 
who had arrived just in time to save his master. 

The remaining robber, exhausted by loss of blood 
and the violence of the contest, showed signs of falter- 
ing. The Englishman pursued his advantage, pressed 
on him, and as his strength relaxed, dashed him head- 
long from the precipice. He looked after him, and saw 
him lying motionless among the rocks below. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 79 

The Englishman now sought the fair Venetian. He 
found her senseless on the ground. With his servant's 
assistance he bore her down to the road, where her hus- 
band was raving like one distracted. He had sought 
her in vain, and had given her over for lost ; and when 
he beheld her thus brought back in safety, his joy was 
equally wild and ungovernable. He would have caught 
her insensible form to his bosom, had not the English- 
man restrained him. The latter, now really aroused, 
displayed a true tenderness and manly gallantry which 
one would not have expected from his habitual phlegm. 
His kindness, however, was practical, not wasted in 
words. He despatched John to the carriage for resto- 
ratives of all kinds, and, totally thoughtless of himself, 
was anxious only about his lovely charge. The occa- 
sional discharge of fire-arms along the height showed 
that a retreating fight was still kept up by the robbers. 
The lady gave signs of reviving animation. The Eng- 
lishman, eager to get her from this place of danger, 
conveyed her to his own carriage, and, committing her 
to the care of her husband, ordered the dragoons to 
escort them to Fondi. The Venetian would have in- 
sisted on the Englishman's getting into the carriage, 
but the latter refused. He poured forth a torrent of 
thanks and benedictions ; but the Englishman beckoned 
to the postilions to drive on. 

John now dressed his master's wounds, which were 
found not to be serious, though he was faint with loss 
of blood. The Venetian carriage had been righted, 
and the baggage replaced ; and, getting into it, they set 
out on their way towards Fondi, leaving the foot-sol- 
diers still engaged in ferreting out the banditti. 

Before arriving at Fondi, the fair Venetian had 
completely recovered from her swoon. She made the 
usual question — 

" Where was she?" 

"In the Englishman's carriage." 

" How had she escaped from the robbers ?" 

" The Englishman had rescued her. " 

Her transports were imbounded ; and mingled with 



80 BEAUTIES OF 

them were enthusiastic ejaculations of gratitude to her 
deliverer. A thousand times did she reproach herself 
for having accused him of coldness and insensibility. 
The moment she saw him she rushed into his arms with 
the vivacity of her nation, and hung about his neck in 
a speechless transport of gratitude. Never was man 
more embarassed by the embraces of a fine woman. 

" Tut ! — tut !" said the Englishman. 

" You are wounded !" shrieked the Venetian, as she 
saw blood upon his clothes. 

" Pooh ! nothing at all !" 

" My deliverer ! — my angel !" exclaimed she, clasping 
him again round the neck, and sobbing on his bosom. 

" Pish !" said the Englishman, with a good-humoured 
tone, but looking somewhat foolish, " this is all hum- 
bug." 

The fair Venetian, however, has never since accused 
the English of insensibility. 



THE WALTZ. 

As many of the retired matrons of this city, unskilled 
in " gestic lore," are doubtless ignorant of the movements 
and figures of this modest exhibition, I will endeavour 
to give some account of it, in order that they may learn 
what odd capers their daughters sometimes cut when 
from under their guardian wings. — On a signal being 
given by the music, the gentleman seizes the lady round 
her waist ; the lady, scorning to be out-done in courtesy, 
very politely takes the gentleman round the neck, with 
one arm resting against his shoulder to prevent encroach- 
ments. Away, then, they go, about, and about, and 
about — " About what, sir ?" — About the room, madam, 
to be sure. The whole economy of this dance consists 
in turning round and round the room in a certain mea- 
sured step ; and it is truly astonishing that this conti- 
nued revolution does not set all their heads swimming 
like a top ; but I have been positively assured that it 



WASHINGTON IRVING. * 81 

only occasions a gentle sensation which is marvellously 
agreeable. In the course of this circumnavigation, the 
dancers, in order to give the charm of variety, are con- 
tinually changing their relative situations, — now the gen- 
tleman, meaning no harm in the world, I assure you, 
madam, carelessly flings his arm about the lady's neck, 
with an air of celestial impudence ; and anon, the lady, 
meaning as little harm as the gentleman, takes him round 
the waist with most ingenious modest languishment, to 
the great delight of numerous spectators and amateurs, 
who generally form a ring, as the mob do about a pair 
of amazons pulling caps, or a couple of fighting mastiffs. 
— After continuing this divine interchange of hands, 
arms, et cetera, for half an hour or so, the lady begins 
to tire, and " with eyes upraised," in most bewitching 
languor, petitions her partner for a little more sup- 
port. This is always given without hesitation. The 
lady leans gently on his shoulder ; their arms entwine 
in a thousand seducing, mischievous curves — don't be 
alarmed, madam — closer and closer they approach each 
other; and, in conclusion, the parties being overcome 
with ecstatic fatigue, the lady seems almost sinking into 

the gentleman's arms, and then " Well, sir, what 

then ?" — Lord ! madam, how should I know ? 



DUTCH TEA PARTIES. 

These fashionable parties were generally consigned 
to the higher classes, or noblesse, that is to say, such as 
kept their own cows, and drove their own waggons. 
The company commonly assembled at three o'clock, and 
went away about six, unless it was in winter time, when 
the fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies 
might get home before dark. I do not find that they 
ever treated their company to iced creams, jellies, or 
syllabubs ; or regaled them with musty almonds, mouldy 
raisins, or sour oranges, as is often done in the present 
age of refinement. Our ancestors were fond of more 



82 BEAUTIES OF 

sturdy, substantial fare. The tea table was crowned 
with a huge earthen dish, well stored with slices of fat 
pork, fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming 
in gravy. The company being seated around the genial 
board, and each furnished with a fork, evinced their 
dexterity in launching at the fattest pieces in this mighty 
dish, in much the same manner as sailors harpoon por- 
poises at sea, or our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. 
Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple 
pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears ; but 
it was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of 
sweetened dough, fried in hogg's fat, and called dough 
nuts, or oly koeks : a delicious kind of cake, at present 
scarce known in this city, excepting in genuine Dutch 
families. 

The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, 
ornamented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds 
and shepherdesses tending pigs — with boats sailing in 
the air, and houses built in the clouds, and sundfy other 
ingenious Dutch fantasies. The beaux distinguished 
themselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot, 
from a huge copper tea-kettle, which would have made 
the pigmy macaronies of these degenerate days sweat, 
merely to look at it. To sweeten the beverage, a lump 
of sugar was laid beside each cup, and the company 
alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum, until 
an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and econo- 
mic old lady, which was, to suspend a large lump directly 
over the tea table, by a string from the ceiling, so that it 
could be swung from mouth to mouth — an ingenious 
expedient, which is still kept up by some families in 
Albany ; but which prevails without exception in Com- 
munipaw, Bergen, Flat- Bush, and all our uncontami- 
nated Dutch villages. 

At these primitive tea parties the utmost propriety and 
dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquet- 
ting — no gambling of old ladies, nor hoyden chattering 
and romping of young ones — no self-satisfied struttings 
of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in their pockets ; 
nor amusing conceits, and monkey divertisements of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 83 

smart young gentlemen with no brains at all. On the 
contrary, the young ladies seated themselves demurely in 
their rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their own woollen 
stockings ; nor ever opened their lips, excepting to say 
yah Mynheer, or yah ya Vrouw, to any question that was 
asked them ; behaving, in all things, like decent well- 
educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them 
tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contem- 
plation of the blue and white tiles with which the fire- 
places were decorated; wherein sundry passages of 
scripture were piously pourtrayed : Tobit and his dog 
figured to great advantage ; Haman swung conspicuously 
on his gibbet ; and Jonah appeared most manfully bounc- 
ing out of the whale, like Harlequin through a barrel of 
fire. 

The parties broke up without noise and without con- 
fusion. They were carried home by their own carriages, 
that is to say, by the vehicles nature had provided them, 
excepting such of the wealthy as could afford to keep a 
waggon. The gentlemen gallantly attended their fair 
ones to their respective abodes, and took leave of them 
with a hearty smack at the door ; which, as it was an 
established piece of etiquette, done in perfect simplicity 
and honesty of heart, occasioned no scandal at that time, 
nor should it at the present — if our great grandfathers 
approved of the custom, it would argue a great want of 
reverence in their descendants to say a word against it. 



COSMOGONY; 

Or, Creation of the World; with a multitude of excellent 
Theories, by which the Creation of a World is shown 
to be no such difficult matter as common folks would 
imagine. 

Having thus briefly introduced my reader into the 
world, and given him some idea of its form and situation, 
he will naturally be curious to know from whence it 



84 BEAUTIES OF 

came, and how it was created. And indeed the clearing 
up of these points is absolutely essential to my history, 
inasmuch as if this world had not been formed, it is 
more than probable that this renowned island, on which 
is situated the city of New- York, would never have had 
an existence. The regular course of my history, there- 
fore, requires that I should proceed to notice the cos- 
mogony or formation of this our globe. 

And now I give my readers fair warning, that I am 
about to plunge for a chapter or two, into as complete 
a labyrinth as ever historian was perplexed withal ; 
therefore I advise them to take fast hold of my skirts, 
and keep close at my heels, venturing neither to the right 
hand nor to the left, lest they get bemired in a slough 
of unintelligible learning, or have their brains knocked 
out by some of those hard Greek names which will be 
flying about in all directions. But should any of them 
be too indolent or chicken-hearted to accompany me 
in this perilous undertaking, they had better take a short 
cut round, and wait for me at the beginning of some 
smoother chapter. 

Of the creation of the world we have a thousand con- 
tradictory accounts ; and though a very satisfactoiy one 
is furnished by divine revelation, yet every philosopher 
feels himself in honour bound to furnish us with abetter. 
As an impartial historian, I consider it my duty to notice 
their several theories, by which mankind have been so 
exceedingly edified and instructed. 

Thus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages, that 
the earth and the whole system of the universe was the 
deity himself;* a doctrine most strenuously maintained 
by Zenophanes and the whole tribe of Eleatics, as also 
by Strato and the sect of peripatetic philosophers. Py- 
thagoras likewise inculcated the famous numerical system 
of the monad, dyad, and tryad ; and by means of his 
sacred quaternary elucidated the formation of the world, 
the arcana of nature, and the principles both of music 



* Aristot. ap. Cic. lib. i. cap« 3. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 85 

and morals.* Other sages adhered to the mathematical 
system of squares and triangles ; the cube, the pyramid, 
and the sphere ; the tetrahedron, the octahedron, the 
ieosahedron, and the dodecahedron, f While others 
advocated the great elementary theory, which refers the 
construction of our globe and all that it contains to the 
combinations of four material elements, ah', earth, fire, 
and water ; with the assistance of a fifth, an immaterial 
and vivifying principle. 

Nor must I omit to mention the great atomic system 
taught by old Moschus before the siege of Troy ; revived 
by Democritus of laughing memory ; improved by Epi- 
curus, that king of good fellows ; and modernized by 
the fanciful Descartes. But I decline enquiring whether 
the atoms of which the earth is said to be composed, 
are eternal or recent ; whether they are animate or in- 
animate ; whether, agreeably to the opinions of Atheists, 
they were fortuitously aggregated ; or, as the Theists 
maintain, were arranged by a supreme intelligence. £ 
Whether, in fact, the earth be an insensate clod, or 
whether it be animated by a soul ; § which opinion was 
strenuously maintained by a host of philosophers, at the 
head of whom stands the great. Plato, that temperate 
sage, who threw the cold water of philosophy on the 
form of sexual intercourse, and inculcated the doctrine 
of Platonic love — an exquisitely refined intercourse, but 
much better adapted to the ideal inhabitants of his ima- 
ginary island of Atlantis than to the sturdy race, com- 
posed of rebellious flesh and blood, which populates the 
little matter of fact island we inhabit. 



* Aristot. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 5. Idem de Coelo, lib. iii. c. 1. Rous- 
seau. Mem. sur Musique Ancien. p. 39. Plutarch de Plac. Philos. 
lib. i. cap. 3. 

t Tim. Locr. ap. Plato t. iii. p. 90. 

$ Aristot. Nat. Ascult. 1. ii. cap. 6. Aristoph. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 
3. Cic de Nat Deor. lib. i. cap. 10. Justin Mart. Orat. ad Gent. 
p. 20. 

§ Mosheim in Cudw. lib. i. cap. 4. Tim. de Anim. Mund. ap. Pit. 
lib. iii. Mem. de TAcad. des Belles Lettres. t. xxxii. p. 19. et al. 



86 BEAUTIES OF 

Besides' these systems, we have, moreover, the poetical 
theogony of old Hesiod, who generated the whole uni- 
verse in the regular mode of procreation, and the plausi- 
ble opinion of others, that the earth was hatched from 
the great egg of night, which floated in chaos, and was 
cracked by the horns of the celestial bull. To illustrate 
this last doctrine, Burnet, in his theory of the earth,* 
has favoured us with an accurate drawing and descrip- 
tion both of the form and texture of this mundane egg t 
which is found to bear a near resemblance to that of a 
goose. Such of my readers as take a proper interest in 
the origin of this our planet, will be pleased to learn, 
that the most profound sages of antiquity among the 
Egyptians, Chaldeans, Persians, Greeks, and Latins, 
have alternately assisted at the hatching of this strange 
bird ; and that their cacklings have been caught and con- 
tinued, in different tones and inflections, from philoso- 
pher to philosopher, unto the present day. 

But while briefly noticing long celebrated systems of 
ancient sages, let me not pass over, with neglect, those 
of other philosophers, which, though less universal than 
renowned, have equal claims to attention, and equal 
chance for correctness. Thus it is recorded by the Brah- 
mins, in the pages of their inspired Shastah, that the angel 
Bistnoo transformed himself into a great boar, plunged 
into the watery abyss, and brought up the earth on his 
tusks. Then issued from him a mighty tortoise, and a 
mighty snake ; and Bistnoo placed the snake erect upon 
the back of the tortoise, and he placed the earth upon 
the head of the snake, f 

The negro philosophers of Congo affirm, that the world 
was made by the hands of angels, excepting their own 
country, which the supreme being constructed himself, 
that it might be supremely excellent. And he took great 
pains with the inhabitants, and made them very black and 
beautiful ; and when he had finished the first man, he 



* Book i. ch. 5. 
t Holwell, Gent. Philosophy. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 87 

was well pleased with him, and smoothed him over the 
face, and hence his nose, and the nose of all his de- 
scendants, became flat. 

The Mohawk philosophers tell us, that a pregnant 
woman fell down from heaven, and that a tortoise took 
her upon its back, because every place was covered with 
water ; and, that the woman, sitting upon the tortoise, 
paddled with her hands in the water, and raked up the 
earth, whence it finally happened that the earth became 
higher than the water. * 

But I forbear to quote a number more of these an- 
cient and outlandish philosophers, whose deplorable 
ignorance, in spite of all their erudition, compelled them 
to write in languages which but few of my readers can 
understand ; and I shall proceed briefly to notice a few 
more intelligible and fashionable theories of their modern 
successors. 

And first, I shall mention the great BufFon, who con- 
jectures that this globe was originally a globe of liquid 
fire, scintillated from the body of the sun, by the percus- 
sion of a comet, as a spark is generated by the collision 
of flint and steel. That at first it was surrounded by 
gross vapours, which, cooling and condensing, in process 
of time constituted, according to their densities, earth, 
water, and air ; which gradually arranged themselves, 
according to their respective gravities, round the burning 
or vitrified mass that formed their centre. 

Hutton, on the contrary, supposes that the waters at 
first were universally paramount ; and he terrifies himself 
with the idea, that the earth must be eventually washed 
away by the force of rains, rivers, and mountain torrents, 
until it is confounded with the ocean, or, in other words, 
absolutely dissolves into itself. — Sublime idea! far sur- 
passing that of the tender-hearted damsel of antiquity, 
who wept herself into a fountain ; or the good dame of 
Narbonne in France, who, for a volubility of tongue 



* Johannes Megapolensis, jun. Account of Maquaas or Mohawk 
Indians, 1644. 



88 BEAUTIES OF 

unusual in her sex, was doomed to peel five hundred 
thousand and thirty-nine ropes of onions, and actually 
ran out at her eyes before half the hideous task was ac- 
complished. 

Whiston, the same ingenious philosopher who rivalled 
Ditton in his researches after the longitude (for which 
the mischief-loving Swift discharged on their heads a 
most savoury stanza), has distinguished himself by a 
very admirable theory respecting the earth. He con- 
jectures that it was originally a chaotic comet, which, 
being selected for the abode of man, was removed from 
its eccentric orbit, and whirled round the sun in its 
present regular motion ; by which change of direction, 
order succeeded to confusion in the arrangement of its 
component parts. The philosopher adds, that the de- 
luge was produced by an uncourteous salute from the 
watery tail of another comet ; doubtless through sheer 
envy of its improved condition ; thus furnishing a 
melancholy proof that jealousy may prevail, even among 
the heavenly bodies, and discord interrupt that celestial 
harmony of the spheres, so melodiously sung by the 
poets. 

But I pass over a variety of excellent theories, among 
which are those of Burnet, and Woodward, and White- 
hurst ; regretting extremely that my time will not suffer 
me to give them the notice they deserve — and shall 
conclude with that of the renowned Dr. Darwin. This 
learned Theban, who is as much distinguished for rhyme 
as reason, and for good natured credulity as serious re- 
search ; and who has recommended himself wonderfully 
to the good graces of the ladies, by letting them into all 
the gallantries, amours, debaucheries, and other topics 
of scandal of the court of Flora, has fallen upon a 
theory worthy of his combustible imagination. Accor- 
ding to his opinion, the huge mass of chaos took a sud- 
den occasion to explode, like a barrel of gunpowder, 
and, in that act, exploded the sun — which, in its flight, 
by a similar convulsion exploded the earth — which in 
like guise exploded the moon — and thus, by a concate- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 89 

nation of explosions, the whole solar system was pro- 
duced, and set most systematically in motion.* 

By the great variety of theories here alluded to, every 
one of which, if thoroughly examined, will be found 
surprisingly consistent in all its parts, my unlearned 
readers will perhaps be led to conclude, that the crea- 
tion of a world is not so difficult a task as they at first 
imagined. I have shown at least a score of ingenious 
methods in which a world could be constructed ; and, I 
have no doubt, that had any of the philosophers above 
quoted the use of a good manageable comet, and the 
philosophical warehouse, chaos, at his command, he 
would engage to manufacture a planet, as good, or, if 
you would take his word for it, better than this we 
inhabit. 

And here I cannot help noticing the kindness of 
providence, in creating comets for the great relief of 
bewildered philosophers. By their assistance more 
sudden evolutions and transitions are effected in the 
system of nature, than are wrought in a pantomimic 
exhibition, by the wonder-working sword of harlequin. 
Should one of our modern sages, in his theoretical 
flights among the stars, ever find himself lost in the 
clouds, and in danger of tumbling into the abyss of 
nonsense and absurdity, he has but to seize a comet by 
the beard, mount astride of its tail, and away he gal- 
lops in triumph, like an enchanter on his hippogrifF, or 
a Connecticut witch on her broomstick, " to sweep the 
cobwebs out of the sky." 

It is an old and vulgar saying, about a " beggar on 
horseback," which I would not for the world have ap- 
plied to these reverend philosophers : but I must confess, 
that some of them, when they are mounted on one of 
those fiery steeds, are as wild in their curvetings as was 
Phaeton, of yore, when he aspired to manage the chariot 
of Phoebus. One drives his comet at full speed against 
the sun, and knocks the world out of him with the 



» Darw. Bot. Garden. Part I. cant. i. lib. 105. 

h2 



90 BEAUTIES OF 

mighty concussion ; another, more moderate, makes his 
comet a kind of beast of burden, carrying the sun a 
regular supply of food and faggots ; a third of more 
combustible disposition, threatens to throw his comet, 
like a bombshell, into the world, and blow it up like a 
powder magazine : while a fourth, with no great deli- 
cacy to this planet and its inhabitants, insinuates that 
some day or other, his comet — my modest pen blushes 
while I write it — shall absolutely turn tail upon the 
world and deluge it with water ! Surely, as I have 
already observed, comets were bountifully provided by 
providence for the benefit of philosophers to assist 
them in manufacturing theories. 

And now, having adduced several of the most promi- 
nent theories that occur to my recollection, I leave my 
judicious readers at full liberty to choose among them. 
They are all serious speculations of learned men — all 
differ essentially from each other — and all have the same 
title to belief. It has ever been the task of one race 
of philosophers to demolish the works of their prede- 
cessors, and elevate more splendid fantasies in their 
stead, which, in their turn, are demolished and replaced 
by the air-castles of a succeeding generation. Thus it 
would seem that knowledge and genius, of which we 
make such great parade, consist but in detecting the 
errors and absurdities of those who have gone before, 
and devising new errors and absurdities, to be detected 
by those who are to come after us. Theories are the 
mighty soap-bubbles with which the grown-up children 
of science amuse themselves ; while the honest vulgar 
stand gazing in stupid admiration, and dignify these 
learned vagaries with the name of wisdom ! Surely 
Socrates was right in his opinion, that philosophers are 
but a soberer sort of madmen, busying themselves in 
things totally incomprehensible, or which, if they could 
be comprehended, would be found not worthy the trou- 
ble of discovery. 

For my own part, until the learned have come to an 
agreement among themselves, I shall content myself 
with the account handed down to us by Moses ; in which 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 91 

I do but follow the example of our ingenious neighbours 
of Connecticut ; who at their first settlement proclaim- 
ed, that the colony should be governed by the laws of 
God — until they had time to make better. 

One thing, however, appears certain — from the unani- 
mous authority of the before quoted philosophers, sup- 
ported by the evidence of our own senses, (which, 
though very apt to deceive us, may be cautiously ad- 
mitted as additional testimony), it appears, I say, and I 
make the assertion deliberately, without fear of contra- 
diction, that this globe really was created, and that it is 
composed of land and water. It further appears that it 
is curiously divided and parcelled out into continents 
and islands, among which I boldly declare the renowned 
island of new- york will be found by any one who 
seeks for it in its proper place. 



DUTCH LEGISLATORS. 

And now the infant settlement having advanced in age 
and stature, it was thought high time it should receive 
an honest Christian name, and it was accordingly called 
New- Amsterdam. It is true there were some advocates 
for the original Indian name, and many of the best 
writers of the province did long continue to call it by 
the title of " The Manhattoes," but this was discounte- 
nanced by the authorities, as being heathenish and 
savage. Besides, it was considered an excellent and 
praiseworthy measure to name it after a great city of the 
old world ; as by that means it was induced to emulate 
the greatness and renown of its namesake — in the man- 
ner that little snivelling urchins are called after great 
statesmen, saints, and worthies, and renowned generals 
of yore, upon which they all industriously copy their 
examples, and come to be very mighty men in their day 
and generation. 

The thriving state of the settlement and the rapid 
increase of houses gradually awakened the good Oloffe 



92 BEAUTIES OF 

from a deep lethargy, into which he had fallen after the 
building of the fort. He now began to think it was 
time some plan should be devised on which the increas- 
ing town should be built. Summoning, therefore, his 
counsellors and coadjutors together, they took pipe in 
mouth, and forthwith sunk into a very sound delibera- 
tion on the subject. 

At the very outset of the business an unexpected 
difference of opinion arose, and I mention it with much 
sorrowing, as being the first altercation on record in the 
councils of New- Amsterdam. It was a breaking forth 
of the grudge and heartburning that had existed between 
those two eminent burghers, Mynheers Tenbroeck and 
Hardenbroeck, ever since their unhappy altercation on 
the coast of Belle vue. The great Hardenbroeck had 
waxed very wealthy and powerful from his domains, 
which embraced the whole chain of Apulean mountains 
that stretch along the gulf of Kip's Bay, and form part 
of the district from which his descendants have been 
expelled in latter ages by the powerful clans of the 
Joneses and the Shermerhornes. 

An ingenious plan for the city was offered by Myn- 
heer Tenbroeck, who proposed that it should be cut up 
and intersected by canals, after the manner of the most 
admired cities in Holland. To this Mynheer Harden- 
broeck was diametrically opposed, suggesting in place 
thereof that they should run out docks and wharfs by 
means of piles, driven into the bottom of the river, on 
which the town should be built. " By these means," 
said he triumphantly, " shall we rescue a considerable 
space of territory from these immense rivers, and build 
a city that shall rival Amsterdam, Venice, or any am- 
phibious city in Europe." To this proposition Ten- 
broeck (or Ten Breeches) replied, with a look of as 
much scorn as he could possibly assume. He cast the 
utmost censure upon the plan of his antagonist as being 
preposterous, and against the very order of things, as he 
would leave to every true Hollander. " For what," 
said he, " is a town without canals ? — It is like a body 
without veins and arteries, and must perish for want of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 93 

a free circulation of the vital fluid." Tough Breeches, 
on the contrary, retorted with a sarcasm upon his 
antagonist, who was somewhat of an arid, dry-boned 
habit; he remarked, that as to the circulation of the 
blood being necessary to existence, Mynheer Ten 
Breeches was a living contradiction to his own assertion ; 
for every body knew there had not a drop of blood 
circulated through his wind-dried carcass for good ten 
years, and yet there was not a greater busy-body in the 
whole colony. Personalities have seldom much effect 
in making converts in argument ; nor have I ever seen 
a man convinced of error by being convicted of defor- 
mity. At least, such was not the case at present. Ten 
Breeches was very acrimonious in reply, and Tough 
Breeches, who was a sturdy little man, and never gave 
up the last word, rejoined with increasing spirit — Ten 
Breeches had the advantage of the greatest volubility, 
but Tough Breeches had that invaluable coat of mail in 
argument called obstinacy — Ten Breeches had, there- 
fore, the most mettle, but Tough Breeches the best 
bottom — so that though Ten Breeches made a dreadful 
clattering about his ears, and battered and belaboured 
him with hard words and sound arguments ; yet Tough 
Breeches hung on most resolutely to the last. They 
parted, therefore, as is usual in all arguments where 
both parties are in the right, without coming to any 
conclusion ; but they hated each other most heartily 
for ever after, and a similar breach with that between 
the houses of Capulet and Montague did ensue between 
the families of Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches. 

I would not fatigue my reader with these dull matters 
of fact, but that my duty as a faithful historian requires 
that I should be particular ; and, in truth, as I am now 
treating of the critical period, when our city, like a 
young twig first appeared, the twists and turns that have 
since contributed to give it the present picturesque 
irregularity, for which it is celebrated, I cannot be too 
minute in detailing their first causes. 

After the unhappy altercation I have just mentioned, 
I do not find that any thing further was said on the 



94 BEAUTIES OF 

subject worthy of being recorded. The council, con- 
sisting of the largest and oldest heads in the community, 
met regularly once a week, to ponder on this monstrous 
subject; but either they were deterred by the war of 
words they had witnessed, or they were naturally averse 
to the exercise of the tongue, and the consequent exer- 
cise of the brain — certain it is, the most profound 
silence was maintained — the question, as usual, lay on 
the table — the members quietly smoked their pipes, 
making but few laws, without ever enforcing any, and 
in the mean time the affairs of the settlement went on 
— as it pleased God. 

As most of the council were but little skilled in the 
mystery of combining pothooks and hangers, they deter- 
mined, most judiciously, not to puzzle either them- 
selves or posterity with voluminous records. The 
Secretary, however, kept the minutes of the council 
with tolerable precision, in a large vellum folio, fastened 
with massy brass clasps ; the journal of each meeting 
consisted but of two lines, stating, in Dutch, that " the 
council sat this day, and smoked twelve pipes on the 
affairs of the colony." By which it appears that the 
first settlers did not regulate their time by hours, but 
pipes, in the same manner as they measure distances in 
Holland at this very time ; an admirably exact measure- 
ment, as a pipe in the mouth of a true born Dutchman 
is never liable to those accidents and irregularities that 
are continually putting our clocks out of order. 

In this manner did the profound council of New- 
Amsterdam smoke, and doze, and ponder, from week 
to week, month to month, and year to year, in what 
manner they should construct their infant settlement : 
meanwhile, the town took care of itself, and like a 
sturdy brat which is suffered to run about wild, un- 
shackled by clouts and bandages, and other abomina- 
tions, by which your notable nurses and sage old women 
cripple and disfigure the children of men, increased so 
rapidly in strength and magnitude, that before the honest 
burgomasters had determined upon a plan, it was too 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 95 

late to put it in execution — whereupon they wisely 
abandoned the subject altogether. 



THE LITTLE MAN IN BLACK. 

The following story has been handed down by a family 
tradition for more than a century. It is one on which 
my cousin Christopher dwells with more than usual 
prolixity ; and, being in some measure connected with 
a personage often quoted in our work, I have thought 
it worthy of being laid before my readers. 

Soon after my grandfather, Mr Lemuel Cockloft, 
had quietly settled himself at 'the Hall, and just about 
the time that the gossips of the neighbourhood, tired of 
prying into his affairs, were anxious for some new tea- 
table topic, the busy community of our little village was 
thrown into a grand turmoil of curiosity and conjecture 
— a situation very common to little gossiping villages — 
by the sudden and unaccountable appearance of a mys- 
terious individual. 

The object of this solicitude was a little black-look- 
ing man, of a foreign aspect, who took possession of an 
old building, which having long had the reputation of 
being haunted, was in a state of ruinous desolation; and 
an object of fear to all true believers in ghosts. He 
usually wore a high sugar-loaf hat with a narrow brim, 
and a little black cloak, which, short as he was, scarcely 
reached below his knees. He sought no intimacy or 
acquaintance with any one — appeared to take no inter- 
est in the pleasures or the little broils of the village — 
nor ever talked, except sometimes to himself in an out- 
landish tongue. He commonly carried a large book, 
covered with sheep-skin, under his arm, appeared al- 
ways to be lost in meditation — and was often met by 
the peasantry, sometimes watching the dawning of the 
day, sometimes at noon seated under a tree poring over his 
volume, and sometimes at evening gazing, with a look 



96 BEAUTIES OF 

of sober tranquillity, at the sun as it gradually sunk be- 
low the horizon. 

The good people of the vicinity beheld something 
prodigiously singular in all this ; a profound mystery 
seemed to hang about the stranger, which, with all their 
sagacity, they could not penetrate ; and in the excess of 
wordly charity they pronounced it a sure sign " that he 
was no better than he should be ;" a phrase innocent 
enough in itself; but which, as applied in common, sig- 
nifies nearly every thing that is bad. The young peo- 
ple thought him a gloomy misanthrope, because he 
never joined in their sports; the old men thought still 
more hardly of him, because he followed no trade, nor 
ever seemed ambitious of earning a farthing ; and as to 
the old gossips, baffled by the inflexible taciturnity of 
the stranger, they unanimously declared that a man who 
could not or would not talk was no better than a dumb 
beast. The little man in black, careless of their opin- 
ions, seemed resolved to maintain the liberty of keeping 
his own secret; and the consequence was, that, in a lit- 
tle while, the whole village was in an uproar; for in 
little communities of this description, the members have 
always the privilege of being thoroughly versed, and 
even of meddling, in all the affairs of each other. 

A confidential conference was held one Sunday morn- 
ing after sermon, at the door of the village church, and 
the character of the unknown fully investigated. The 
schoolmaster gave it lal|his opinion that he was the 
wandering Jew ; the sexton was certain that he must 
be a freemason from his silence ; a third maintained, 
with great obstinacy, that he was a High German Doc- 
tor, and that the book which he carried about with him 
contained the secrets of the black art; but the most 
prevailing opinion seemed to be that he was a witch — 
a race of beings at that time abounding in those parts : 
and a sagacious old matron, from Connecticut, proposed 
to ascertain the fact by sousing him into a kettle of hot 
water. 

Suspicion, when once afloat, goes with wind and tide, 
and soon became certainty. Many a stormy nigh was 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 97 

the little man in black seen by the flashes of lightning, 
frisking and curveting in the air upon a broomstick ; 
and it was always observed, that at those times the 
storm did more mischief than at any other. The old 
lady in particular, who suggested the humane ordeal of 
the boiling kettle, lost on one of these occasions a fine 
brindle cow ; which accident was entirely ascribed to 
the vengeance of the little man in black. If ever a 
mischievous hireling rode his master's favourite horse 
to a distant frolic, and the animal was observed to be 
lame and jaded in the morning, — the little man in black 
was sure to be at the bottom of the affair ; nor could a 
high wind howl through the village at night, but the old 
women shrugged up their shoulders, and observed, " the 
little man in black was in his tantrums, " In short, he 
became the bugbear of every house ; and was as effec- 
tual in frightening little children into obedience and 
hysterics, as the redoubtable Rawhead-and-bloody-bones 
himself ; nor could a housewife of the village sleep in 
peace, except under the guardianship of a horse-shoe 
nailed to the door. 

The object of these direful suspicions remained for 
some time totally ignorant of the wonderful quandary 
he had occasioned ; but he was soon doomed to feel its 
effects. An individual who is once so unfortunate as 
to incur the odium of a village is in a great measure 
outlawed and prescribed, and becomes a mark for injury 
and insult ; particularly if he has not the power or the 
disposition to recriminate. — The little venomous pas- 
sions, which in the great world are dissipated and 
weakened by being widely diffused, act in the narrow 
limits of a country town with collected vigour, and be- 
come rancorous in proportion as they are confined in 
their sphere of action. The little man in black ex- 
perienced the truth of this ; every mischievous urchin 
returning from school had full liberty to break his win- 
dows ; and this was considered as a most daring exploit ; 
for in such awe did they stand of him, that the most 
adventurous schoolboy was never seen to approach his 
threshold, and at night would prefer going round by the 



98 BEAUTIES OF 

cross-roads, where a traveller had been murdered by the 
Indians, rather than pass by the door of his forlorn ha- 
bitation. 

The only living creature that seemed to have any 
care or affection for this deserted being was an old 
turnspit, — the companion of his lonely mansion and his 
solitary wanderings ; — the sharer of his scanty meals, 
and, sorry I am to say it, — the sharer of his persecu- 
tions. The turnspit, like his master, was peaceable and 
inoffensive ; never known to bark at a horse, to growl 
at a traveller, or to quarrel with the dogs of the neigh- 
bourhood. He followed close by his master's heels 
when he went out, and when he returned stretched 
himself in the sunbeams at the door ; demeaning him- 
self in all things like a civil and well disposed turnspit. 
But notwithstanding his exemplary deportment he fell 
likewise under the ill report of the village, as being 
the familiar of the little man in black, and the evil spi- 
rit that presided at his incantations. The old hovel 
was considered as the scene of their unhallowed rites, 
and its harmless tenants regarded with a detestation 
which their inoffensive conduct never merited. Though 
pelted and jeered at by the brats of the village, and fre- 
quently abused by their parents, the little man in black 
never turned to rebuke them; and his faithful dog, 
when wantonly assaulted, looked up wistfully in his 
master's face, and there learned a lesson of patience and 
forbearance. 

The movements of this inscrutable being had long 
been the subject of speculation at Cockloft-hall, for its 
inmates were full as much given to wondering as their 
descendants. The patience with which he bore his per- 
secutions particularly surprised them — for patience is a 
virtue but little known in the Cockloft family. My 
grandmother, who, it appears, was rather superstitious, 
saw in this humility nothing but the gloomy sullenness 
of a wizard, who restrained himself for the present, in 
hopes of midnight vengeance — the parson of the village, 
who was a man of some reading, pronounced it the 
stubborn insensibility of a stoic philosopher — my grand- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 99 

father, who, worthy soul, seldom wandered abroad in 
search of conclusions, took datum from his own excel- 
lent heart, and regarded it as the humble forgiveness of 
a christian. But however different were their opinions 
as to the character of the stranger, they agreed in one 
particular, namely, in never intruding upon his solitude ; 
and my grandmother, who was at that time nursing my 
mother, never left the room without wisely putting the 
large family bible in the cradle — a sure talisman, in her 
opinion, against witchcraft and necromancy. 

One stormy winter night, when a bleak north-east 
wind moaned about the cottages, and howled around 
the village steeple, my grandfather was returning from 
club preceded by a servant with a lantern. Just as he 
arrived opposite the desolate abode of the little man in 
black, he was arrested by the piteous howling of a dog, 
which, heard in the pauses of a storm, was exquisitely 
mournful ; and he fancied now and then that he caught 
the low and broken groans of some one in distress. 
He stopped for some minutes, hesitating between the 
benevolence of his heart and a sensation of genuine 
delicacy, which, in spite of his eccentricity, he fully 
possessed, — and which forbade him to pry into the con- 
cerns of his neighbours. Perhaps, too, this hesitation 
might have been strengthened by a little taint of super- 
stition ; or surely, if the unknown had been addicted 
to witchcraft, this was a most propitious night for his 
vagaries. At length the old gentleman's philanthropy 
predominated ; he approached the hovel, and pushing 
open the door, — for poverty has no occasion for locks 
and keys,— beheld, by the light of the lantern, a scene 
that smote his generous heart to the core. 

On a miserable bed, with pallid and emaciated vi- 
sage and hollow eyes ; in a room destitute of every 
convenience ; without fire to warm or friend to console 
him, lay this helpless mortal who had been so long the 
terror and wonder of the village. His dog was crouch- 
ing on the scanty coverlet, and shivering with cold. 
My grandfather stepped softly and hesitatingly to the 
bedside, and accosted the forlorn sufferer in his usual 



100 BEAUTIES OF 

accents of kindness. The little man in black seemed 
recalled by the tones of compassion from the lethargy 
into which he had fallen ; for, though his heart was 
almost frozen, there was yet one chord that answered 
to the call of the good old man who bent over him ; — 
the tones of sympathy, so novel to his ear, called back 
his wandering senses, and acted like a restorative to his 
solitary feelings. 

He raised his eyes, but they were vacant and hag- 
gard ; — he put forth his hand, but it was cold ; — he es- 
sayed to speak, but the sound died away in his throat ; 
— he pointed to his mouth with an expression of dread- 
ful meaning, and, sad to relate ! my grandfather under- 
stood that the harmless stranger, deserted by society, 
was perishing with hunger ! — With the quick impulse 
of humanity he despatched the servant to the hall for 
refreshment. A little warm nourishment renovated 
him for a short time, but not long : it was evident his 
pilgrimage was drawing to a close, and he was about 
entering that peaceful assylum where " the wicked 
cease from troubling." 

His tale of misery was short, and quickly told ; — 
infirmities had stolen upon him, heightened by the ri- 
gours of the season ; he had taken to his bed without 
strength to rise and ask for assistance ; " and if I had," 
said he, in a tone of bitter despondency, " to whom 
should I have applied ? I have no friend that I know 
of in the world ! — the villagers avoid me as something 
loathsome and dangerous ; and here, in the midst of 
christians, should I have perished without a fellow 
being to sooth the last moments of existence, and close 
my dying eyes, had not the howtings of my faithful dog 
excited your attention." 

He seemed deeply sensible of the kindness of my 
grandfather ; and at one time as he looked up into his 
old benefactor's face, a solitary tear was observed to 
steal adown the parched furrows of his cheek. — Poor 
outcast ! — it was the last tear he shed ; but I warrant 
it was not the first by millions ! My grandfather 
watched by him all night. Towards morning he gra- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 101 

dually declined ; and as the rising sun gleamed through 
the windows, be begged to be raised in his bed, that he 
might look at it for the last time. He contemplated 
it for a moment with a kind of religious enthusiasm, 
and his lips moved as if engaged in prayer. The 
strange conjecture concerning him rushed on my grand- 
father's mind. " He is an idolater !" thought he, "and 
is worshipping the sun !" He listened a moment, and 
blushed at his own uncharitable suspicion ; he was only 
engaged in the pious devotions of a christian. His 
simple orison being finished, the little man in black 
withdrew his eyes from the east, and taking my grand- 
father's hand in one of his, and making a motion with 
the other towards the sun — " I love to contemplate it," 
said he ; " 'tis an emblem of the universal benevolence 
of a true christian ;— and it is the most glorious work 
of him who is philanthropy itself !" My grandfather 
blushed still deeper at his ungenerous surmises ; he had 
pitied the stranger at first, but now he revered him : — 
he turned once more to regard him, but his countenance 
had undergone a change ; the holy enthusiasm that had 
lighted up each feature had given place to an expres- 
sion of mysterious import : — a gleam of grandeur seem- 
ed to steal across his gothic visage, and he appeared full 
of some mighty secret which he hesitated to impart. 
He raised the tattered nightcap that had sunk almost 
over his eyes, and waving his withered hand with a 
slow and feeble expression of dignity — " In me," said 
he, with a laconic solemnity,—" In me you behold the 
last descendant of the renowned Linkum Fidelius !" 
My grandfather gazed at him with reverence; for 
though he had never heard of the illustrious personage 
thus pompously announced, yet there was a certain 
black-letter dignity in the name that peculiarly struck 
his fancy and commanded his respect. 

" You have been kind to me," continued the little 
man in black, after a momentary pause, "and rich- 
ly will I requite your kindness by making you heir to 
my treasures ! In yonder large deal box are the vo- 
lumes of my illustrious ancestor, of which I alone am 
i 



102 BEAUTIES OF 

the fortunate possessor. Inherit them — ponder over 
them, and be wise !" He grew faint with the exertion 
he had made, and sunk back almost breathless on his 
pillow. His hand, which, inspired with the impor- 
tance of his subject, he had raised to my grandfather's 
arm, slipped from its hold and fell over the side of the 
bed, and his faithful dog licked it ; as if anxious to 
sooth the last moments of his master, and testify his 
gratitude to the hand that had so often cherished him. 
The untaught caresses of the faithful animal were not 
lost upon his dying master ; he raised his languid eyes, 
— turned them on the dog, then on my grandfather ; 
and having given this silent recommendation — closed 
them for ever. 

The remains of the little man in black, notwithstand- 
ing the objections of many pious people, were decently 
interred in the church-yard of the village ; and his spi- 
rit, harmless as the body it once animated, has never 
been known to molest a living being. My grandfather 
complied as far as possible with his last request ; he 
conveyed the volumes of Linkum Fidelius to his lib- 
rary; — he pondered over them frequently; but whe- 
ther he grew wiser, the family tradition doth not men- 
tion. This much is certain, that his kindnes to the 
poor descendant of Fidelius was amply rewarded by the 
approbation of his own heart, and the devoted attach- 
ment of the old turnspit ; who, transferring his affection 
from his deceased master to his benefactor, became his 
constant attendant, and was father to a long tribe of 
runty curs that still flourish in the family. And thus 
was the Cockloft library enriched by the invaluable 
folios of the sage Linkum Fidelius. 



MY AUNT CHARITY. 

My aunt Charity departed this life in the fifty-ninth 
year of her age, though she never grew older after 
twenty-five. In her teens she was, according to her 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 103 

own account, a celebrated beauty, — though I never 
could meet with any body that remembered when she 
was handsome. On the contrary, Evergreen's father, 
who used to gallant her in his youth, says she was as 
knotty a little piece of humanity as he ever saw ; and 
that, if she had been possessed of the least sensibility, 
she would, like poor old Acca, have most certainly run 
mad at her own figure and face the first time she con- 
templated herself in a looking-glass. In the good old 
times that saw my aunt in the hey-day of youth, a fine 
lady was a most formidable animal, and required to be 
approached with the same awe and devotion that a Tar- 
tar feels in the presence of his grand Lama. If a gen- 
tleman offered to take her hand except to help her into 
a carriage, or lead her into a drawing-room, such 
frowns ! such a rustling of brocade and taffetta ! Her 
very paste shoe buckles sparkled with indignation, and 
for a moment assumed the brilliancy of diamonds ! In 
those days the person of a belle was sacred — it was un- 
profaned by the sacreligious grasp of a stranger; — 
simple souls : — they had not the waltz among them yet! 

My good aunt prided herself on keeping up this 
buckrum delicacy ; and if she happened to be playing 
at the old fashioned game of forfeits, and was fined a 
kiss, it was always more trouble to get it than it was 
worth ; for she made a most gallant defence, and never 
surrendered until she saw her adversary inclined to give 
over his attack. Evergreen's father says he remembers 
once to have been on a sleighing party with her, and 
when they came to Kissing-Bridge, it fell to his lot to 
levy contributions on Miss Charity Cockloft, who after 
squalling at a hideous rate, at length jumped out of the 
sleigh plump into a snow-bank, where she stuck fast 
like an icicle, until he came to her rescue. This La- 
tonian feat cost her a rheumatism, which she never 
thoroughly recovered. 

It is rather singular that my aunt, though a great 

beauty, and an heiress withal, never got married The 

reason she alleged was, that she never met with a lover 
who resembled Sir Charles Grandison, the hero of her 



104 BEAUTIES OF 

nightly dreams and waking fancy ; but I am privately 
of opinion that it was owing to her never having had an 
offer. This much is certain, that for many years pre- 
vious to her decease she declined all attentions from the 
gentlemen, and contented herself with watching over the 
welfare of her fellow creatures. She was, indeed, ob- 
served to take a considerable lean towards methodism, 
was frequent in her attendance at love-feasts, read Whit- 
field and Wesley, and even went so far as once to travel 
the distance of five and twenty miles to be present at a 
camp-meeting. This gave great offence to my consin 
Christopher, and his good lady, who, as I have already 
mentioned, are rigidly orthodox ; — and had not my aunt 
Charity been of a most pacific disposition her religious 
whim-wham would have occasioned many a family al- 
tercation. She was indeed, as the Cockloft family 
ever boasted — a lady of unbounded loving-kindness, 
which extended to man, woman, and child; many of 
whom she almost killed with good nature. Was any 
acquaintance sick? — in vain did the wind whistle and 
the storm beat — my aunt would waddle through mud 
and mire, over the whole town, but she would vis- 
it them. She would sit by them for hours together with 
the most persevering patience ; and tell a thousand mel- 
ancholy stories of human misery, to keep up their spirits. 
The whole catalogue of yerb teas was at her fingers' 
ends, from formidable wormwood down to gentle balm; 
and she would descant by the hour on the healing qua- 
lities of hoarhound, catnip, and penny-royal. Woe be 
to the patient that came under the benevolent hand of 
my aunt Charity ; he was sure, willy nilly, to be drench- 
ed with a deluge of decoctions; and full many a time has 
my cousin Christopher borne a twinge of pain in silence, 
through fear of being condemned to suffer the martyrdom 
of her materia medica. My good aunt had, moreover, 
considerable skill in astronomy; for she could tell when 
the sun rose and set every day in the year ; — and no wo- 
man in the whole world was able to pronounce, with 
more certainty, at what precise minute the moon chang- 
ed. She held the story of the moon's beings made of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 105 

green cheese as an abominable slander on her favourite 
planet ; and she had made several valuable discoveries 
in solar eclipses, by means of a bit of burnt glass, which 
entitled her at least to an honorary admission in the 
American Philosophical Society. " Hutching's Im- 
proved" was her favourite book ; and I shrewdly suspect 
that it was from this valuable work she drew most of 
her sovereign remedies for colds, coughs, corns, and 
consumptions. 

But the truth must be told ; with all her good quali- 
ties, my aunt Charity was afflicted with one fault, ex- 
tremely rare among her gentle sex — it was curiosity. 
How she came by it, I am at a loss to imagine, but it 
played the very vengeance with her, and destroyed the 
comfort of her life. Having an invincible desire to know 
every body's character, business, and mode of living, she 
was for ever prying into the affairs of her neighbours ; 
and got a great deal of ill-will from people towards 
whom she had the kindest disposition possible. If any 
family on the opposite side of the street gave a dinner, 
my aunt would mount her spectacles, and sit at the 
window until the company were all housed, merely that 
she might know who they were. If she heard a story 
about any of her acquaintance, she would forthwith 
set off full sail, and never rest, until, to use her usual 
expression, she had got " to the bottom of it ;" which 
meant nothing more than telling it to every body 
she knew. 

I remember one night my aunt Charity happened to 
hear a most precious story about one of her good friends, 
but unfortunately too late to give it immediate circula- 
tion. It made her absolutely miserable; and she hardly 
slept a wink all night, for fear her bosom-friend, Mrs 
Sipkins, should get the start of her in the morning, and 
blow the whole affair.. — You must know there was al- 
ways a contest between these two ladies, who should 
first give currency to the good-natured things said about 
every body; and this unfortunate rivalship at length 
proved fatal to their long and ardent friendship. My 
aunt got up full two hours that morning before her 



106 BEAUTIES OF 

usual time ; put on her pompadour taffeta gown, and 
sallied forth to lament the misfortune of her dear friend. 
— Would you believe it! — wherever she went, Mrs 
Sipkins had anticipated her; and instead of being listen- 
ed to with uplifted hands and open-mouthed wonder, 
my unhappy aunt was obliged to sit down quietly and 
listen to the whole affair, with numerous additions, al- 
terations, and amendments ! Now this was too bad; it 
would almost have provoked Patient Grizzle or a saint; 
it was too much for my aunt, who kept her bed three 
days afterwards, with a cold as she pretended ; but I 
have no doubt it was owing to this affair of Mrs Sip- 
kins, to whom she never would be reconciled. 

But I pass over the rest of my aunt Charity's life, 
chequered with the various calamities and misfortunes 
and mortifications, incident to those worthy old gentle- 
women who have the domestic cares of the whole com- 
munity upon their minds ; and I hasten to relate the 
melancholy incident that hurried her out of existence 
in the full bloom of antiquated virginity. 

In their frolicsome malice the fates had ordered that a 
French boarding-house, or Pension Francaise, as it was 
called, should be established directly opposite my aunt's 
residence. Cruel event; unhappy aunt Charity! — it 
threw her into that alarming disorder denominated the 
fidgets : she did nothing but watch at the window day 
after day, but without becoming one whit the wiser at 
the end of a fortnight than she was at the beginning ; 
she thought that neighbour Pension had a monstrous 
large family, and somehow or other they were all men ! 
She could not imagine what business neighbour Pen- 
sion followed to support so numerous a household; and 
wondered why there was always such a scraping of fid- 
dles in the parlour, and such a smell of onions from 
neighbour Pension's kitchen : in short, neighbour Pen- 
sion was continually uppermost in her thoughts, and in- 
cessantly on the outer edge of her tongue. This was, 
I believe, the very first time she had ever failed " to get 
at the bottom of a thing ;" and the disappointment cost 
her many a sleepless night, I warrant you. I have 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 107 

little doubt, however, that my aunt would have ferreted 
neighbour Pension out, could she have spoken or un- 
derstood French ; but in those times people in general 
could make themselves understood in plain English; 
and it was always a standing rule in the Cockloft family, 
which exists to this day, that not one of the females 
should learn French. 

My aunt Charity had lived at her window, for some 
time in vain; when one day she was keeping her usual 
look-out, and suffering all the pangs of unsatisfied curi- 
osity, she beheld a little meagre, weazel-faced French- 
man, of the most forlorn, diminutive, and pitiful pro- 
portions, arrive at neighbour Pension's door. He was 
dressed in white, with a little pinch-up cocked hat ; he 
seemed to shake in the wind, and every blast that went 
over him whistled through his bones, and threatened 
instant annihilation. This embodied spirit of famine 
was followed by three carts, lumbered with crazy trunks, 
chests, band-boxes, bidets, medicine-chests, parrots, and 
monkeys ; and at his heels ran a yelping pack of little 
black-nosed pug-dogs. This was the one thing want- 
ing to fill up the measure of my aunt Charity's afflic- 
tions ; she could not conceive, for the soul of her, who 
this mysterious little apparition could be that made so 
great a display; — what he could possible do with so 
much baggage, and particularly with his parrots and 
monkeys; or how so small a carcass could have occasion 
for so many trunks of clothes. Honest soul ! she had 
never had a peep into a Frenchman's wardrobe — that 
depot of old coats, hats, and breeches; of the growth of 
every fashion he has followed in his life. 

From the time of this fatal arrival my poor aunt was 
in a quandary; — all her inquiries were fruitless; no one 
could expound the history of this mysterious stranger : 
she never held up her head afterwards, — drooped daily, 
took to her bed in a fortnight, and in " one little month" 
I saw her quietly deposited in the family vault — being 
the seventh Cockloft that has died of a whim- wham ! 

Take warning, my fair countrywomen ! and you, O ! 
ye excellent ladies, whether married or single, who pry 



108 BEAUTIES OF 

into other people's affairs and neglect those of your own 
household; who are so busily employed in observing the 
faults of others that you have no time to correct your 
own ; remember the fate of my dear aunt Charity, and 
eschew the evil spirit of curiosity. 



WILL WIZARD. 

I was not a little surprised the other morning at a re- 
quest from Will Wizard that I would accompany him 

that evening to Mrs. 's ball. The request was 

simple enough in itself, it was only singular as coming 
from Will; — of all my acquaintance, Wizard is the least 
calculated and disposed for the society of ladies — not that 
he dislikes their company; on the contrary, like every 
man of pith and marrow, he is a professed admirer of 
the sex ; and had he been born a poet, would undoubt- 
edly have bespattered and be-rhymed some hard named 
goddess, until she became as famous as Petrarch's 
Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa ; but Will is such a con- 
founded bungler at a bow, has so many odd bachelor 
habits, and finds it so troublesome to be gallant, that he 
generally prefers smoking his cigar and telling his story 
among cronies of his own gender : — and thundering long 
stories they are, let me tell you : set Will once a-going 
about China or Crim Tartary, or the Hottentots, and 
heaven help the poor victim who has to endure his pro- 
lixity ; he might better be tied to the tail of a jack-o'lan- 
thern. In one word — Will talks like a traveller. Be- 
ing well acquainted with his character, I was the more 
alarmed at his inclination to visit a party ; since he has 
often assured me, that he considered it as equivalent 
to being stuck up for three hours in a steam engine. I 
even wondered how he had received an invitation ; — this 
he soon accounted for. It seems Will, on his last arrival 
from Canton, had made a present of a case of tea to a 
lady, for whom he had once entertained a sneaking kind- 
ness when at grammar school ; and she in return had 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 109 

invited him to come and drink some of it : a cheap way 
enough of paying off little obligations. I readily acced- 
ed to Will's proposition, expecting much entertainment 
from his eccentric remarks ; and as he has been absent 
some few years, I anticipated his surprise at the splen- 
dour and elegance of a modern rout. 

On calling for Will in the evening, I found him full 
dressed waiting for me. I contemplated with absolute 
dismay. As he still retained a spark of regard for the 
lady who once reigned in his affections, he had been at 
unusual pains in decorating his person, and broke upon 
my sight arrayed in the true style that prevailed among 
our beaux some years ago. His hair was turned up and 
tufted at the top, frizzled out at the ears, a profusion of 
powder puffed over the whole, and a long plaited club 
swung gracefully from shoulder to shoulder, describing 
a pleasing semi-circle of powder and pomatum. His 
claret-coloured coat was decorated with a profusion of 
gilt buttons, and reached to his calves. His white cas- 
simere small-clothes were so tight that he seemed to 
have grown up in them ; and his ponderous legs, which 
are the thickest part of his body, were beautifully cloth- 
ed in sky-blue silk stockings, once considered so be- 
coming. But above all, he prided himself upon his waist- 
coat of China silk, which might almost have served a 
good housewife for a short gown ; and he boasted that 
the roses and tulips upon it were the work of JVang- 
Fou, daughter of the great Chin-Chin-Fou, who had 
fallen in love with the graces of his person, and sent 
it to him as a parting present ; he assured me she was 
a perfect beauty, with sweet obliquity of eyes, and a 
foot no longer than the thumb of an alderman; — he 
then dilated most copiously on his silver sprigged dicky, 
which he assured me was quite the rage among the 
dashing young mandarins of Canton. 

I hold it an ill-natured office to put any man out of 
conceit with himself; so, though I would willingly have 
made a little alteration in my friend Wizard's pictur- 
esque costume, yet I politely complimented him on his 
rakish appearance. 



110 BEAUTIES OF 

On entering the room I kept a good look out on Will, 
expecting to see him exhibit signs of surprise ; but he is 
one of those knowing fellows who are never surprised at 
any thing, or at least will never acknowledge it. He 
took his stand on the middle of the floor, playing with 
his great steel watch-chain, and looking round on the 
company, the furniture and the pictures, with the air of 

a man " who had seen d d finer things in his time ;" 

and to my utter confusion and dismay, I saw him cooly 
pull out his villanous old japanned tobacco-box, orna- 
mented with a bottle, a pipe, and a scurvy motto, and 
help himself to a quid in face of all the company. 

I knew it was all in vain to find fault with a fellow 
of Will's socratic turn, who is never to be put out of 
humour with himself; so, after he had given his box its 
prescriptive rap, and returned it to his pocket, I drew 
him into a corner where he might observe the company 
without being prominent objects ourselves. 

" And pray who is that stylish figure," said Will, 
" who blazes away in red, like a volcano, and who 
seems wrapped in flames like a fiery dragon?" — That, 
cried I, is Miss Laurelia Dashaway : — she is the high- 
est flash of the ton — has much whim and more eccentri- 
city, and has reduced many an unhappy gentleman to 
stupidity by her charms ; you see she holds out the red 
flag in token of " no quarter." " Then keep me safe 
out of the sphere of her attractions," cried Will : " I 
would not e'en come in contact with her train, lest it 
should scorch me like the tail of a comet. — But who, I 
beg of you, is that amiable youth who is handing along 
a young lady, and at the same time contemplating his 
sweet person in a mirror, as he passes?" His name, 
said I, is Billy Dimple ; — he is a universal smiler, and 
would travel from Dan to Beersheba, and smile on every 
body as he passed. Dimple is a slave to the ladies — a 
hero at tea-parties, and is famous at the pirouet and the 
pigeon- wing ; a fiddle-stick is his idol, and a dance his 
elysium. " A very pretty young gentleman, truly," 
cried Wizard ; " he reminds me of a contemporary beau 
at Hayti. You must know that the magnanimous 



WASHINGTON IRVING. Ill 

Dessalines gave a great ball to his court one fine sultry 
summer's evening ; Dessy and I were great cronies ; — 
hand and glove : — one of the most condescending great 
men I ever knew. — Such a display of black and yellow 
beauties! such a show of Madras handkerchiefs, red 
beads, cocks' tails and peacocks' feathers ! — it was, as 
here, who should wear the highest top-knot, drag the 
longest tails, or exhibit the greatest variety of combs, 
colours, and gew-gaws. In the middle of the rout, 
when all was buzz, slip-slop, clack, and perfume, who 
should enter but Tucky Squash ! The yellow beauties 
blushed blue, and the black ones blushed as red as they 
could, with pleasure ; and there was a universal agita- 
tion of fans : every eye brightened and whitened to see 
Tucky ; for he was the pride of the court, the pink of 
courtesy, the mirror of fashion, the adoration of all the 
sable fair ones of Hayti. Such breadth of nose, such 
exuberance of lip ! his shins had the true cucumber 
curve ; — his face in dancing shone like a kettle ; and pro- 
vided you kept to windward of him in summer, I do 
not know a sweeter youth in all Hayti than Tucky 
Squash. When he laughed, there appeared from ear to 
ear a chevaux-de-frize of teeth, that rivalled the shark's 
in whiteness ; he could whistle like a north-wester ; play 
on a three-stringed fiddle like Apollo ; and as to dancing, 
no long- Island negro could shuffle you " double-trouble," 
or " hoe corn and dig potatoes," more scientifically : in 
short, he was a second Lothario. And the dusky nymphs 
of Hayti, one and all, declared him a perpetual Adonis. 
Tucky walked about, whistling to himself, without re- 
garding any body; and his nonchalance was irresistible." 
I found Will had got neck and heels into one of his 
traveller's stories ; and there is no knowing how far he 
would have run his parallel between Billy Dimple and 
Tucky Squash, had not the music struck up from an ad- 
joining apartment, and summoned the company to the 
dance. The sound seemed to have an inspiring effect on 
honest Will, and he procured the hand of an old acquaint- 
ance for a country dance. It happened to be the fash- 
ionable one of " The devil among the Tailors," which is 



112 BEAUTIES OF 

so vociferously demanded at every ball and assembly : and 
many a torn gown, and many an unfortunate toe, did rue 
the dancing of that night ; for Will thundered down the 
dance like a coach and six, sometimes right, and some- 
times wrong; now running over half a score of little 
Frenchmen, and now making sad inroads into ladies' 
cobweb muslins and spangled tails. As every part of 
Will's body partook of the exertion, he shook from his 
capacious head such volumes of powder, that like pious 
Eneas on the first interview with Queen Dido, he might 
be said to have been enveloped in a cloud. Nor was 
Will's partner an insignificant figure in the scene ; she 
was a young lady of most voluminous proportions, that 
quivered at every skip ; and being braced up in the fash- 
ionable style with whalebone, stay-tape and buckram, 
looked like an apple pudding tied in the middle ; or, 
taking her flaming dress into consideration, like a bed 
and bolsters rolled up in a suit of red curtains. The 

dance finished I would gladly have taken Will off, but 

no ; — he was now in one of his happy moods, and there 
was no doing any thing with him. He insisted on 
my introducing him to Miss Sparkle, a young lady un- 
rivalled for playful wit and innocent vivacity, and who, 
like a brilliant, adds lustre to the front of fashion. I 
accordingly presented him to her, and began a conversa- 
tion, in which, I thought, he might take a share ; but no 
such thing. Will took his stand before her, straddling 
like a colossus, with his hands in his pockets, and an 
air of the most profound attention ; nor did he pretend 
to open his lips for some time, until, upon some lively 
sally of hers, he electrified the whole company with a 
most intolerable burst of laughter. What was to be 
done with such an incorrigible fellow? — To add to my 
distress, the first word he spoke was to tell Miss Sparkle 
that something she said reminded him of a circumstance 
that happened to him in China ; — and at it he went, in 
the true traveller style, — described the Chinese mode of 
eating rice with chop-sticks ; — entered into a long eulo- 
gium on the succulent qualities of boiled birds' nests : and 
I made my escape at the very moment when he was on 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 113 

the point of squatting down on the floor, to show how 
the little Chinese Joshes sit cross-legged. 



STYLE. 

In no instance have I seen this grasping after style 
more whimsically exhibited than in the family of my old 
acquaintance Timothy Giblet. I recollect old Giblet 
when I was a boy, and he was the most surly curmudgeon 
I ever knew. He was a perfect scare-crow to the small- 
fry of the day, and inherited the hatred of all these un- 
lucky little shavers ; for never could we assemble about 
his door of an evening to play, and make a little hubbub, 
but out he sallied from his nest like a spider, flourished 
his formidable horse-whip, and dispersed the whole crew 
in the twinkling of a lamp. I perfectly remember a bill 
he sent in to my father for a pane of sound glass I had 
accidentally broken, which came well nigh getting me a 
flogging; and I remember as perfectly, that the next night 
I revenged myself by breaking half-a-dozen. Giblet was 
as arrant a grub- worm as ever crawled ; and the only 
rules of right and wrong he cared a button for, were the 
rules of multiplication and addition ; which he practised 
much more successfully than he did any of the rules of 
religion or morality. He used to declare they were the 
true golden rules ; and he took special care to put Coc- 
ker's arithmetic into the hands of his children, before they 
had read ten pages in the bible or the prayer book. 
The practice of these favourite maxims were at length 
crowned with the harvest of success ; and after a life of 
incessant self-denial, and starvation, and after enduring 
all the pounds shillings and pence miseries of a miser, 
he had the satisfaction of seeing himself worth a plum, 
and of dying just as he had determined to enjoy the re- 
mainder of his days in contemplating his great wealth 
and accumulating mortgages. 

His children inherited his money ; but they buried 
the disposition, and every other memorial of their father 
k2 



114 BEAUTIES OF 

in his grave. Fired with a noble thirst for style, they 
instantly emerged from the retired lane in which them- 
selves and their accomplishments had hitherto been bu- 
ried ; and they blazed, and they whizzed, and they cracked 
about town, like a nest of squibbs and devils in a fire- 
work. I can liken their sudden eclat to nothing but that 
of the locust, which is hatched in the dust, where it in- 
creases and swells up to maturity, and after feeling for 
a moment the vivifying rays of the sun, bursts forth a 
mighty insect, and flutters and rattles, and buzzes from 
every tree. The little warblers, who have long cheered 
the woodlands with their dulcet notes, are stunned by 
the discordant racket of these upstart intruders, and con- 
template, in contemptuous silence, their tinsel and their 
noise. 

Having once started, the Giblets were determined that 
nothing should stop them in their career, until they 
had run their full course and arrived at the very tip-top 
of style. Every tailor, every shoemaker, every coach- 
maker, every milliner, every mantua-maker, every paper- 
hanger, every piano-teacher, and every dancing-master 
in the city, were enlisted in their service ; and the wil- 
ling wights most courteously answered their call, and 
fell to work to build up the fame of the Giblets, as they 
had done that of many an aspiring family before them. 
In a little time the young ladies could dance the waltz, 
thunder Lodoiska, murder French, kill time, and com- 
mit violence on the face of nature in a landscape in 
water-colours, equal to the best lady in the land, and 
the young gentlemen were seen lounging at corners of 
streets, and driving tandem ; heard talking loud at the 
theatre, and laughing in church, with as much ease and 
grace, and modesty, as if they had been gentlemen all 
the days of their lives. 

And the Giblets arrayed themselves in scarlet, and 
in fine linen, and seated themselves in high places ; but 
nobody noticed them except to honour them with a lit- 
tle contempt. The Giblets made a prodigious splash in 
their own opinion ; but nobody extolled them except the 
tailors and the milliners, who had been employed in 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 115 

manufacturing their paraphernalia. The Giblets there- 
upon being, like Caleb Quotem, determined to have 
" a place at the review," fell to work more fiercely than 
ever ;-— they gave dinners, and they gave balls ; they hired 
cooks ; they hired confectioners ; and they would have 
kept a newspaper in pay, had they not been all bought 
up at that time for the election. They invited the 
dancing men, and the dancing women, and the gorman- 
dizers, and the epicures of the city, to come and make 
merry at their expense ; and the dancing men, and the 
dancing women, and the epicures, and the gormandizers, 
did come ; and they did make merry at their expense ; 
and they eat, and they drank, and they capered, and 
they danced, and they — laughed at their entertain- 
ers. 

Then commenced the hurry and the bustle, and the 
mighty nothingness of fashionable life ; — such rattling 
in coaches ! such flaunting in the streets ! such slamming 
of box-doors at the theatre ! such a tempest of a bustle 
and unmeaning noise wherever they appeared ! The 
Giblets were seen here and there and every where ; — 
they visited every body they knew, and every body they 
did not know ; and there was no getting along for the 
Giblets. Their plan at length succeeded. By dint of 
dinners, of feeding and frolicking the town, the Giblet 
family worked themselves into notice, and enjoyed the 
ineffable pleasure of being for ever pestered by visitors, 
who cared nothing about them ; of being squeezed, and 
smothered, and parboiled at nightly balls and evening 
tea parties ; they were allowed the privilege of forget- 
ting the very few old friends they once possessed ; — 
they turned their noses up in the wind at every thing 
that was not genteel; and their superb manners and 
sublime affectation at length left it no longer a matter 
of doubt that the Giblets were perfectly in the style. 



116 BEAUTIES OF 



FRENCHMEN. 



In my mind there's no position more positive and un- 
exceptionable than that most Frenchmen, dead or alive, 
are born dancers, I came pounce upon this discovery 
at the assembly, and I immediately noted it down in my 
register of indisputable facts — the public shall know all 
about it. As I never dance cotillions, holding them to 
be monstrous distorters of the human frame, and tanta- 
mount in their operations to being broken and dislocated 
on the wheel, I generally take occasion, while they are 
going on, to make my remarks on the company. In the 
course of these observations I was struck with the ener- 
gy and eloquence of sundry limbs, which seemed to be 
flourishing about without appertaining to any body. 
After much investigation and difficulty, I at length 
traced them to their respective owners, whom I found 
to be all Frenchmen to a man. Art may have meddled 
somewhat in these affairs, but nature certainly did more. 
I have since been considerably employed in calculations 
on this subject; and by the most accurate computation 
I have determined, that a Frenchman passes at least 
three-fifths of his time between the heavens and the 
earth, and partakes eminently of the nature of a gossamer 
or soap bubble. One of these jack-a-lantern heroes, in 
taking a figure, which neither Euclid nor Pythagoras 
himself could demonstrate, unfortunately wound him- 
self — I mean his foot — his better part — in a lady's cob- 
web muslin robe ; but perceiving it at the instant, he 
set himself a spinning the other way, like a top, unra- 
valled his step, without omiting one angle or curve, 
and extricated himself without breaking a thread of 
the lady's dress ! he then sprung up like a sturgeon, 
crossed his feet four times, and fmishe^UMs wonderful 
evolution by quivering his left leg, as *?cat does her 
paw when she has accidentally dipped it in water. No 
man " of woman born," who was not a Frenchman, or 
a mountebank, could have done the like. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 117 



THE WIFE. 

I have often had occasion to remark the fortitude with 
which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses 
of fortune. Those disasters which break down the 
spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to 
call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give 
such intrepidity and elevation to their character, that at 
times it approaches to sublimity. Nothing can be more 
touching than to behold a soft and tender female, who 
had been all weakness and dependence, and alive to 
every trivial roughness, while treading the prosperous 
paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the 
comforter and supporter of her husband under misfor- 
tune, and abiding, with unshrinking firmness, the bit- 
terest blasts of adversity. 

As the vine which has long twined its graceful fo- 
liage about the oak, and been lifted by it in sunshine, 
will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, 
cling round it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its 
shattered boughs ; so is it beautifully ordered by Pro- 
vidence, that woman, who is the mere dependant and 
ornament of man in his happier hours, should be his 
stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity; 
winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, 
tenderly supporting the drooping head, and binding up 
the broken heart. 

I was once congratulating a friend, who had around 
him a blooming family, knit together in the strongest 
affection. " I can wish you no better lot," said he, with 
enthusiasm, "than to have a wife and children. — If you 
are prosperous, there they are to share your prosperity ; 
if otherwise, there they are to comfort you." And in- 
deed, I have observed that a married man falling into 
misfortune is more apt to retrieve his situation in the 
world than a single one ; partly because he is more sti- 
mulated to exertion by the necessities of the helpless and 
beloved beings who depend upon him for subsistence ; 
but chiefly because his spirits are soothed and relieved 



118 BEAUTIES OF 

by domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept 
alive by finding, that, though all abroad is darkness and 
humiliation, yet there is still a little world of love at 
home, of which he is the monarch. Whereas a single 
man is apt to run to waste and self-neglect ; to fancy him- 
self lonely and abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin 
like some deserted mansion, for want of an inhabitant. 

These observations call to mind a little domestic 
story, of which I was once a witness. My intimate 
friend, Leslie, had maried a beautiful and accomplished 
girl, who had been brought up in the midst of fashion- 
able life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of 
my friend was ample ; and he delighted in the anticipa- 
tion of indulging her in every elegant pursuit, and ad- 
ministering to those delicate tastes and fancies that 
spread a kind of witchery about the sex. — " Her life," 
said he, " shall be like a fairy tale." 

The very difference in their characters produced an 
harmonious combination: he was of a romantic and 
somewhat serious cast ; she was all life and gladness. 
I have often noticed the mute rapture with which he 
would gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly 
powers made her the delight ; and how, in the midst of ap- 
plause, her eye would still turn to him, as if there alone 
she sought favour and acceptance. When leaning on 
his arm, her slender form contrasted finely with his tall 
manly person. The fond confiding air with which she 
looked up to him seemed to call forth a flush of trium- 
phant pride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doted on 
his lovely burthen for its very helplessness. Never did 
a couple set forward on the flowery path of early and 
well-suited marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity. 

It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have 
embarked his property in large speculations ; and he had 
not been married many months, when, by a succession 
of sudden disasters, it was swept from him, and he 
found himself reduced almost to penury. For a time 
he kept his situation to himself, and went about with 
a haggard countenance, and a breaking heart. His 
life was but a protracted agony ; and what rendered it 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 119 

more insupportable was the keeping up a smile in the 
presence of his wife; for he could not bring himself to 
overwhelm her with the news. She saw, however, 
with the quick eyes of affection, that all was not well 
with him. She marked his altered looks and stifled 
sighs, and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid 
attempts at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightly 
powers and tender blandishments to win him back to 
happiness ; but she only drove the arrow deeper into his 
soul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more 
torturing was the thought that he was soon to make 
her wretched. A little while, thought he, and the 
smile will vanish from that cheek— the song will die 
away from those lips — the lustre of those eyes will be 
quenched with sorrow ; and the happy heart, which now 
beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed down like 
mine, by the cares and miseries of the world. 

At length he came to me one day, and related his 
whole situation in a tone of the deepest despair. When 
I heard him through, I inquired, " Does your wife know 
all this?" — At the question he burst into an agony of 
tears. " For God's sake !" cried he, " if you have any 
pity on me, don't mention my wife ; it is the thought of 
her that drives me almost to madness !" 

" And why not ?" said I. " She must know it sooner 
or later : you cannot keep it long from her, and the in- 
telligence may break upon her in a more startling man- 
ner than if imparted by yourself; for the accents of 
those we love soften the harshest tidings. Besides, you 
are depriving yourself of the comforts of her sympathy ; 
and not merely that, but also endangering the only bond 
that can keep hearts together — an unreserved communi- 
ty of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that 
something is secretly preying upon your mind; and true 
love will not brook reserve ; it feels undervalued and 
outraged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are 
concealed from it." 

" Oh, but, my friend ! to think what a blow I am to 
give to all her future prospects — how I am to strike her 
very soul to the earth, by telling her that her husband 



120 BEAUTIES OF 

is a beggar ! that she is to forgo all the elegancies of life 
— all the pleasures of society — to shrink with me into 
indigence and obscurity ! To tell her that I have drag- 
ged her down from the sphere in which she might have 
continued to move in constant brightness — the light of 
every eye — the admiration of every heart ! — How can 
she bear poverty ? she has been brought up in all the 
refinements of opulence. How can she bear neglect? 
she has been the idol of society. Oh, it will break her 
heart — it will break her heart ! — " 

I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its 
flow ; for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his 
paroxysm had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody 
silence, I resumed the subject gently, and urged him to 
break his situation at once to his wife. He shook his 
head mournfully, but positively. 

" But how are you to keep it from her ? It is neces- 
sary she should know it, that you may take the steps 
proper to the alteration of your circumstances. You 

must change your style of living nay," observing a 

pang to pass across his countenance, " don't let that af- 
flict you. I am sure you have never placed your happi- 
ness in outward show — you have yet friends, warm 
friends, who will not think the worse of you for being 
less splendidly lodged; and surely it does not require a 
palace to be happy with Mary — " 

" I could be happy with her," cried he, convulsively, 
" in a hovel ! — I could go down with her into poverty 

and the dust ! — I could — I could God bless her! — 

God bless her !" cried he, bursting into a transport of 
grief and tenderness. 

" And believe me, my friend," said I, stepping up, 
and grasping him warmly by the hand, " believe me she 
can be the same with you. Ay, more: it will be a 
source of pride and triumph to her — it will call forth 
all the latent energies and fervent sympathies of her 
nature ; for she will rejoice to prove that she loves you 
for yourself. There is in every true woman's heart a 
spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad 
daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 121 

beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. No 
man knows what the wife of his bosom is — no man 
knows what a ministering angel she is — until he has 
gone with her through the fiery trials of this world." 

There was something in the earnestness of my man- 
ner, and the figurative style of my language, that caught 
the excited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor 
I had to deal with ; and following up the impression I 
had made, I finished by persuading him to go home and 
unburden his sad heart to his wife. 

I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt 
some little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate 
on the fortitude of one whose whole life has been a round 
of pleasures ? Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark 
downward path of low humility suddenly pointed out 
before her, and might cling to the sunny regions in which 
they had hitherto revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable 
life is accompanied by so many galling mortifications, 
to which in other ranks it is a stranger. — In short, I 
could not meet Leslie the next morning without trepi- 
dation. He had made the disclosure. 

" And how did she bear it ?" 

" Like an angel ! It seemed rather to be a relief to 
her mind, for she threw her arms round my neck, and 
asked if this was all that had lately made me unhappy. 
But, poor girl," added he, " she cannot realize the 
change we must undergo. She has no idea of poverty 
but in the abstract ; she has only read of it in poetry, 
where it is allied to love. She feels as yet no privation ; 
she suffers no loss of accustomed conveniences nor ele- 
gancies. When we come practically to experience its 
sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations — 
then will be the real trial." 

"But," said I, "now that you have got over the 
severest task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you 
let the world into the secret the better. The disclosure 
may be mortifying ; but then it is a single misery, and 
soon over : whereas you otherwise suffer it, in anticipa- 
tion, every hour in the day. It is not poverty so much 
as pretence, that harasses a ruined man — the struggle 

L 



122 BEAUTIES OF 

between a proud mind and an empty purse — the keeping 
up a hollow show that must soon come to an end. 
Have the courage to appear poor, and you disarm po- 
verty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found 
Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride him- 
self, and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform 
to their altered fortunes. 

Some days afterwards he called upon me in the even- 
ing. He had disposed of his dwelling-house, and taken 
a small cottage in the country, a few miles from town. 
He had been busied all day in sending out furniture. 
The new establishment required few articles, and those 
of the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his 
late residence had been sold, excepting his wife's harp. 
That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea 
of herself; it belonged to the little story of their loves : 
for some of the sweetest moments of their courtship 
were those when he had leaned over that instrument, 
and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I could 
not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in 
a doting husband. 

He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife 
had been all day superintending its arrangement. My 
feelings had become strongly interested in the progress 
of this family story, and, as it was a fine evening, I of- 
fered to accompany him. 

He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and as 
we walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing. 

" Poor Mary !" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, 
from his lips. 

" And what of her ?" asked I : " has any thing hap- 
pened to her ?" 

" What," said he, darting an impatient glance, " is it 
nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation — to be 
caged in a miserable cottage — to be obliged to toil 
almost in the menial concerns of her wretched habita- 
tion ?" 

" Has she then repined at the change !" 

" Repined ! she has been nothing but sweetness and 
good humour. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 123 

I have ever known her ; she has been to me all love, 
and tenderness and comfort !" 

" Admirable girl !" exclaimed I. " You call yourself 
poor, my friend ; you never were so rich — you never 
knew the boundless treasures of excellence you possessed 
in that woman." 

" Oh ! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the 
cottage were over, I think I could then be comfortable. 
But this is her first day of real experience ; she has 
been introduced into a humble dwelling — she has been 
employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments 
— she has, for the first time, known the fatigues of do- 
mestic employment — she has, for the first time, looked 
round her on a home destitute of every thing elegant, — 
almost of every thing convenient ; and may now be sit- 
ting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a 
prospect of future poverty." 

There was a degree of probability in this picture that 
I could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence. 

After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, 
so thickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a com- 
plete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. 
It was humble enough in its appearance for the most 
pastoral poet ; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A 
wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of 
foliage ; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over 
it; and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully 
disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in 
front. A small wicket gate opened upon a footpath 
that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just 
as we approached, we heard the sound of music — Leslie 
grasped my arm; we paused and listened. It was 
Mary's voice, singing, in a style of the most touching 
simplicity, a little air of which her husband was pecu- 
liarly fond. 

I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped 
forward to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise 
on the gravel walk. A bright beautiful face glanced 
out at the window and vanished — a light footstep was 
heard — and Mary came tripping forth to meet us : she 



124 BEAUTIES OF 

was in a pretty rural dress of white ; a few wild llowers 
were twisted in her fine hair ; a fresh bloom was on her 
cheek ; her whole countenance beamed with smiles — I 
had never seen her look so lovely. 

" My dear George," cried she, " I am so glad you are 
come ! I have been watching and watching for you ; 
and running down the lane, and looking out for you. 
I've set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the 
cottage ; and I've been gathering some of the most de- 
licious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them — 
and we have such excellent cream — and we have every 
thing so sweet and still here — Oh!" said she, putting 
her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, 
" Oh, we shall be so happy !" 

Poor Leslie was overcome — he caught her to his bo- 
som — he folded his arms round her — he kissed her again 
and again — he could not speak, but the tears gushed into 
his eyes ; and he has often assured me that though the 
world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life 
has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experi- 
enced a moment of more exquisite felicity. 



TO ANTHONY EVERGREEN, Gent. 

Sir, 
As you appear to have taken to yourself the trouble 
of meddling in the concerns of the beau-monde, I take 
the liberty of appealing to you on a subject, which, 
though considered merely as a very good joke, has oc- 
casioned me great vexation and expense. You must 
know I pride myself on being very useful to the ladies, 
that is, I take boxes for them at the theatre, go shop- 
ping with them, supply them with bouquets, and furnish 
them with novels from the circulating library. In con- 
sequence of these attentions I am become a great fa- 
vourite, and there is seldom a party going on in the city 
without my having an invitation. The grievance I 
have to mention is the exchange of hats which takes 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 125 

place on these occasions, for, to speak my mind freely, 
there are certain young gentlemen who seem to consider 
fashionable parties as mere places to barter old clothes : 
and I am informed, that a number of them manage by 
this great system of exchange to keep their crowns de- 
cently covered without their hatters suffering in the 
least by it. 

It was but lately that I went to a private ball with a 
new hat, and on returning in the latter part of the 
evening, and asking for it, the scoundrel of a servant, 
with a broad grin, informed me that the new hats had 
been dealt out half an hour since, and they were then 
on the third quality ; and I was in the end obliged to 
borrow a young lady's beaver rather than go home with 
any of the ragged remnants that were left. 

Now I would wish to know if there is no possibility 
of having these offenders punished by law; and whether 
it would not be advisable for ladies to mention in their 
cards of invitation, as a postscript, " Stealing hats and 
shawls positively prohibited." — At any rate, I would 
thank you, Mr Evergreen, to discountenance the thing 
totally, by publishing in your paper that stealing a hat 
is no joke. 

Your humble servant, 

Walter Withers. 



Showing the nature of History in general ; containing 
furthermore the universal Acquirements of William the 
Testy, and how a Man may learn so much as to render 
himself good for Nothing. 

When the lofty Thucydides is about to enter on his 
description of the plague that desolated Athens, one of 
his modern commentators* assures the reader, that his 
history " is now going to be exceeding solemn, serious, 



Smith's Thucyd. vol. 1. 

L 2 



126 BEAUTIES OF 

and pathetic ;" and hints, with that air of chuckling gra- 
tulation, with which a good dame draws forth a choice 
morsel from a cupboard to regale a favourite, that this 
plague will give his history a most agreeable variety. 

In like manner did my heart leap within me, when 
I came to the dolorous dilemma of Fort Good Hope, 
which I at once perceived to be the forerunner of a 
series of great events and entertaining disasters. Such 
are the true subjects for the historic pen. For what is 
history, in fact, but a kind of Newgate Calender, a re- 
gister of the crimes and miseries that man has inflicted 
on his fellow men. It is a huge libel on human nature, 
to which we industriously add page after page, volume 
after volume, as if we were building up a monument to 
the honour rather than the infamy of our species. If 
we turn over the pages of these chronicles that man has 
written of himself, what are the characters dignified by 
the appellation of great, and held up to the admiration 
of posterity? — Tyrants, robbers, conquerors, renowned 
only for the magnitude of their misdeeds and the stupen- 
dous wrongs and miseries they have inflicted on man- 
kind — warriors, who have hired themselves to the trade 
of blood, not from motives of virtuous patriotism, or 
to protect the injured or defenceless, but merely to 
gain the vaunted glory of being adroit and successful in 
massacring their fellow beings ! What are the great 
events that constitute a glorious era? The fall of 
empires — the desolation of happy countries — splendid 
cities smoking in their ruins — the proudest works of 
art tumbled in the dust — the shrieks and groans of whole 
nations ascending unto heaven ! 

It is thus the historians may be said to thrive on the 
miseries of mankind — they are like the birds of prey 
that hover over the field of battle, to fatten on the 
mighty dead. It was observed by a great projector of 
inland lock navigation, that rivers, lakes, and oceans 
were only formed to feed canals. In like manner I am 
tempted to believe, that plots, conspiracies, wars, vic- 
tories, and massacres are ordained by providence only 
as food for the historian. - 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 127 

It is a source of great delight to the philosopher, in 
studying the wonderful economy of nature, to trace the 
mutual dependencies of things, how they are created 
reciprocally for each other, and how the most noxious 
and apparently unnecessary animal has its uses. Thus 
those swarms of flies, which are so often execrated as 
useless vermin, are created for the sustenance of spi- 
ders; and spiders, on the other hand, are evidently 
made to devour flies. So those heroes who have been 
such pests in the world were bounteously provided as 
themes for the poet and the historian, while the poet 
and the historian were destined to record the achieve- 
ments of heroes ! 

These and many similar reflections naturally arose in 
my mind as I took up my pen to commence the reign 
of William Kieft ; for now the stream of our history, 
which hitherto has rolled in a tranquil current, is about 
to depart for ever from its peaceful haunts, and brawl 
through many a turbulent and rugged scene. Like 
some sleek ox, which, having fed and fattened in a rich 
clover field, lies sunk in luxurious repose, and will bear 
repeated taunts and blows before it heaves its unwieldy 
limbs, and clumsily arouses from its slumbers ; so the 
province of the Nieuw Nederlandts, having long thriven 
and grown corpulent under the prosperous reign of the 
Doubter, was reluctantly awakened to a melancholy 
conviction that, by patient sufferance, its grievances had 
become so numerous and aggravating, that it was pre- 
ferable to repel than endure them. The reader will 
now witness the manner in which a peaceful community 
advances toward a state of war ; which it is too apt to 
approach, as a horse does a drum, with much prancing 
and parade, but with little progress, and too often with 
the wrong end foremost. 

Wilhelmus Kieft, who in 1634 ascended the Gu- 
bernatorial chair (to borrow a favourite though clumsy 
appellation of modern phraseologists,) was in form, 
feature, and character, the very reverse of Wouter 
Van Twiller, his renowned predecessor. He was of 
very respectable descent, his father being Inspector of 



128 BEAUTIES OF 

Windmills in the ancient town of Saardam ; and our 
hero, we are told, made very curious investigations in 
the nature and operations of those machines when a 
boy, which is one reason why he afterwards came to be 
so ingenious a governor. His name, according to the 
most ingenious etymologists, was a corruption of Kyver, 
that is to say, a wrangler or scolder, and expressed the 
hereditary disposition of his family, which, for nearly 
two centuries, had kept the windy town of Saardam in 
hot water, and produced more tartars and brimstones 
than any ten families in the place; and so truly did 
Wilhelmus Kieft inherit this family endowment that 
he had scarcely been a year in the discharge of his go- 
vernment, before he was universally known by the name 
of William the Testy. 

He was a brisk, waspish, little old gentleman, who 
had dried and withered away, partly through the natural 
process of years, and partly from being parched and 
burned up by his fiery soul, which blazed Like a vehe- 
ment rush-light in his bosom, constantly inciting him 
to most valorous broils, altercations, and misadventures. 
I have heard it observed by a profound and philosophi- 
cal judge of human nature, that if a woman waxes fat 
as she grows old, the tenure of her life is very preca- 
rious ; but if haply she withers, she lives for ever : 
such likewise was the case with William the Testy, 
who grew tougher in proportion as he dried. He was 
just such a little Dutchman as we may now and then 
see, stumping briskly about the streets of our city, in a 
broad skirted coat, with buttons nearly as large as the 
shield of Ajax, an old-fashioned cocked hat stuck on 
the back of his head, and a cane as high as his chin. 
His visage was broad, but his features sharp ; his nose 
turned up with a most petulent curl ; his cheeks, like 
the regions of Terra del Fuego, were scorched into a 
dusky red — doubtless, in consequence of the neighbour- 
hood of two fierce little gray eyes, through which his 
torrid soul beamed as fervently as a tropical sun blazing 
through a pair of burning glasses. The corners of his 
mouth were curiously modelled into a kind of fret- work, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 129 

not a little resembling the wrinkled proboscis of an 
irritable pug dog ; in a word, lie was one of the most 
positive, restless, ugly little men that ever put himself 
in a passion about nothing. 

Such were the personal endowments of William the 
Testy ; but it was the sterling riches of his mind that 
raised him to dignity and power. In his youth he had 
passed with great credit through a celebrated academy 
at the Hague, noted for producing finished scholars 
with a despatch unequalled, except by certain of our 
American colleges, which seem to manufacture bache- 
lors of arts by some patent machine. Here he skir- 
mished very smartly on the frontiers of several of the 
sciences, and made so gallant an inroad on the dead 
languages, as to bring off captive a host of Greek nouns 
and Latin verbs, together with divers pithy saws and 
apophthegms ; all which he constantly paraded in con- 
versation and writing, with as much vainglory as would 
a triumphant general of yore display the spoils of the 
countries he had ravished. He had moreover puzzled 
himself considerably with logic, in which he had ad- 
vanced so far as to attain a very familiar acquaintance, 
by name at least, with the whole family of syllogisms 
and dilemmas ; but what he chiefly valued himself on 
was his knowledge of metaphysics, in which having 
once upon a time ventured too deeply, he came well 
nigh being smothered in a slouch of unintelligible learn- 
ing — a fearful peril, from the effects of which he never 
perfectly recovered. In plain words, like many other 
profound intermeddlers in this abstruse, bewildering 
science, he so confused his brain with abstract specula- 
tions which he could not comprehend, and artificial dis- 
tinctions which he could not realize, that he could never 
think clearly on any subject, however simple, through the 
whole course of his life afterwards. This, I must con- 
fess, was in some measure a misfortune, for he never 
engaged in argument, of which he was exceeding fond, 
but what, between logical deductions and metaphysical 
jargon, he soon involved himself and his subject in a 
fog of contradictions and perplexities, and then would 



130 BEAUTIES OF 

get into a mighty passion with his adversary, for not 
being convinced gratis. 

It is in knowledge as in swimming, — he who osten- 
tatiously sports and flounders on the surface makes 
more noise and splashing, and attracts more attention 
than the industrious pearl diver, who plunges in search 
of treasures to the bottom. The " universal acquire- 
ments" of William Kieft were the subject of great mar- 
vel and admiration among his countrymen ; he figured 
about the Hague with as much vainglory as does a pro- 
found Bonze at Pekin, who has mastered half the letters 
of the Chinese alphabet ; and, in a word, was unani- 
mously pronounced, a universal genius ! — I have known 
many universal geniuses in my time, though, to speak 
my mind freely, I never knew one who, for the ordi- 
nary purposes of life, was worth his weight in straw ; 
but for the purposes of government, a little sound 
judgment and plain common sense, is worth all the 
sparkling genius that ever wrote poetry, or invented 
theories. 

Strange as it may sound, therefore, the universal ac- 
quirements of the illustrious Wilhelmus were very much 
in his way ; and had he been a less learned man, it is 
possible he would have been a much greater governor. 
He was exceedingly fond of trying philosophical and po- 
litical experiments : and having stuffed his head full of 
scraps and remnants of ancient republics, and oligar- 
chies, and aristocracies, and monarchies, and the laws 
of Solon, and Lycurgus, and Charondas, and the ima- 
ginary commonwealth of Plato, and the Pandects of 
Justinian, and a thousand other fragments of venerable 
antiquity, he was for ever bent upon introducing some 
one or other of them into use ; so that between one 
contradictory measure and another, he entangled the 
government of the little province of the Nieuw Neder- 
landts in more knots, during his administration, than 
half a dozen successors could have untied. 

No sooner had this bustling little man been blown by 
a whiff of fortune into the seat of government, than he 
called together his council, and delivered a very ani- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 131 

mated speech on the affairs of the province. As every 
body knows what a glorious opportunity a governor, a 
president, or even an emperor has of drubbing his ene- 
mies in his speeches, messages, and bulletins, where he 
has the talk all on his own side, they may be sure the 
high-mettled William Kieft did not suffer so favourable 
an occasion to escape him, of evincing that gallantry of 
tongue common to all able legislators. Before he com- 
menced, it is recorded that he took out his pocket hand- 
kerchief, and gave a very sonorous blast of the nose, 
according to the usual custom of great orators. This, 
in general, I believe, is intended as a signal trumpet, to 
call the attention of the auditors ; but with William 
the Testy it boasted a more classic cause, for he had 
read of the singular expedient of that famous demagogue 
Caius Gracchus, who, when he harangued the Roman 
populace, modulated his tones by an oratorical flute or 
pitch-pipe. 

This preparatory symphony being performed, he com- 
menced by expressing an humble sense of his own want 
of talents, his utter unworthiness of the honour conferred 
upon him, and his humiliating incapacity to discharge 
the important duties of his new station ; in short, he 
expressed so contemptible an opinion of himself, that 
many simple country members present, ignorant that 
these were mere words of course, always used on such 
occasions, were very uneasy, and even felt wroth that 
he should accept an office for which he was consciously 
so inadequate. 

He then proceeded in a manner highly classic, pro- 
foundly erudite, and nothing at all to the purpose ; be- 
ing nothing more than a pompous account of all the 
governments of ancient Greece, and the wars of Rome 
and Carthage, together with the rise and fall of sundry 
outlandish empires, about which the assembly knew no 
more than their great grandchildren who were yet 
unborn. Thus having, after the manner of your 
learned orators, convinced the audience that he was a 
man of many words and great erudition, he at length 
came to the less important part of his speech, the situ- 



132 BEAUTIES OF 

ation of the province ; and here he soon worked himself 
into a fearful rage against the Yankees, whom he com- 
pared to the Gauls who desolated Rome, and the Goths 
and Vandals who overran the fairest plains of Europe 
— nor did he forget to mention, in terms of adequate 
opprobrium, the insolence with which they had en- 
croached upon the territories of New Netherlands, and 
the unparalleled audacity with which they had com- 
menced the town of New- Plymouth, and planted the 
onion patches of Weathersfield under the very walls of 
Fort Good Hope. 

Having thus artfully wrought up his tale of terror to 
a climax, he assumed a self-satisfied look, and declared, 
with a nod of knowing import, that he had taken mea- 
sures to put a final stop to these encroachments — that 
he had been obliged to have recourse to a dreadful en- 
gine of warfare, lately invented, awful in its effects, but 
authorised by direful necessity. In a word, he was re- 
solved to conquer the Yankees — by proclamation. 

For this purpose he had prepared a tremendous in- 
strument of the kind, ordering, commanding, and en- 
joining the intruders aforesaid forthwith to remove, de- 
part, and withdraw from the districts, regions, and 
territories aforesaid, under the pain of suffering all the 
penalties, forfeitures, and punishments, in such case 
made and provided, &c. This proclamation, he assured 
them, would at once exterminate the enemy from the 
face of the country ; and he pledged his valour as a 
governor, that within two months after it was published, 
not one stone should remain on another in any of the 
towns which they had built. 

The council remained for some time silent after he 
had finished ; whether struck dumb with admiration at 
the brilliancy of his project, or put to sleep by the 
length of his harangue, the history of the times doth not 
mention. Suffice it to say, they at length gave a general 
grunt of acquiescence ; the proclamation was immedi- 
ately despatched with due ceremony, having the great 
seal of the province, which was about the size of a 
buckwheat pancake, attached to it by a broad red rib- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 133 

bond. Governor Kieft, having thus vented his indig- 
nation, felt greatly relieved — adjourned the council sine 
die — put on his cocked hat and corduroy small-clothes, 
and, mounting on a tall raw-boned charger, trotted out 
to his country seat, which was situated in a sweet, 
sequestered swamp, now called Dutch Street, but more 
commonly known by the name of Dog's Misery. 

Here, like the good Numa, he reposed from the toils 
of legislation, taking lessons in government, not from 
the Nymph Ageria, but from the honoured wife of his 
bosom ; who was one of that peculiar kind of females, 
sent upon earth a little before the flood, as a punish- 
ment for the sins of mankind, and commonly known by 
the appellation of knowing women. In fact, my duty as 
an historian obliges me to make known a circumstance 
which was a great secret at the time, and consequently 
was not a subject of scandal at more than half the tea 
tables of New- Amsterdam, but which, like many other 
great secrets, has leaked out in the lapse of years ; and 
this was, that the great Wilhelmus the Testy, though 
one of the most potent little men that ever breathed, 
yet submitted at home to a species of government nei- 
ther laid down in Aristotle nor Plato ; in short, it par- 
took of the nature of a pure, iinmixed tyranny, and is 
familiarly denominated petticoat government. An abso- 
lute sway, which, though exceedingly common in these 
modern days, was very rare among the ancients, if we 
may judge from the rout made about the domestic eco- 
nomy of honest Socrates, which is the only ancient case 
on record. 

The great Kieft, however, warded off all the sneers 
and sarcasms of his particular friends, who are ever 
ready to joke with a man on sore points of the kind, by 
alleging that it was a government of his own election, 
to which he submitted through choice ; adding at the 
same time a profound maxim which he had found in an 
ancient author, that " he who would aspire to govern, 
should first learn to obey" 



134 BEAUTIES OF 

TEA, 

A POEM. 

Earnestly recommended to the attention of all Maidens of 
a certain age. 

Old time, my dear girls, is a knave who in truth 
From the fairest of beauties will pilfer their youth ; 
Who, by constant attention and wily deceit, 
For ever is coaxing some grace to retreat ; 
And, like crafty seducer, with subtle approach, 
The further indulged, will still further encroach. 
Since this " thief of the world" has made off with your 

bloom, 
And left you some score of stale years in its room — 
Has deprived you of all those gay dreams, that would 

dance 
In your brains at fifteen, and your bosoms entrance ; 
And has forced you almost to renounce in dispair 
The hope of a husband's affection and care — 
Since such is the case, and a case rather hard ! 
Permit one who holds you in special regard 
To furnish such hints in your loveless estate 
As may shelter your names from detraction and hate. 
Too often our maidens, grown aged I ween, 
Indulge to excess in the workings of spleen ; 
And at times, when annoy'd by the slights of mankind, 
Work off their resentment — by speaking their mind : 
Assemble together in snuff-taking clan, 
And hold round the tea-urn a solemn divan. 
A convention of tattling — a tea party hight, 
Which, like meeting of witches, is brew'd up at night : 
Where each matron arrives, fraught with tales of sur- 
prise, 
With knowing suspicion and doubtful surmise ; 
Like the broomstick whirl'd hags that appear in Mac- 
beth, 
Each bearing some relic of venom or death, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 135 

" To stir up the toil and to double the trouble, 
That fire may burn, and that caldron may bubble." 

When the party commences, all starch'd and all glum, 
They talk of the weather, their corns, or sit mum : 
They will tell you of cambric, of ribands, of lace, 
How cheap they were sold — and will name you the 

place. 
They discourse of their colds, and they hem, and they 

cough, 
And complain of their servants to pass the time off; 
Or list to the tale of some doting mamma, 
How her ten weeks old baby will laugh and say taa ! 

But tea, that enlivener of wit and of soul — 
More loquacious by far than the draughts of the bowl, 
Soon unloosens the tongue and enlivens the mind, 
And enlightens their eyes to the faults of mankind. 

'Twas thus with the Pythia, who served at the fount 
That flowed near the far-famed Parnassian mount, 
While the steam was inhaled of the sulphuric spring 
Her vision expanded, her fancy took wing ; 
By its aid she pronounced the oracular will 
That Appollo commanded his sons to fulfil. 
But alas ! the sad vestal, performing the rite, 
Appear'd like a demon — terrific to sight. 
E'en the priests of Appollo averted their eyes, 
And the temple of Delphi resounded her cries. 
But quitting the nymph of the tripod of yore, 
We return to the dames of the tea-pot once more. 

In harmless chit-chat and acquaintance they roast, 
And serve up a friend, as they serve up a toast, 
Some gentle faux pas, or some female mistake, 
Is like sweatmeats delicious, or relished as cake ; 
A bit of broad scandal is like a dry crust, 
It would stick in the throat, so they butter it first 
With a little affected good nature, and cry 
" Nobody regrets the thing deeper than I. " 



136 BEAUTIES OF 

Our young ladies nibble a good name in play, 
As for pastime they nibble a biscuit away : 
While with shrugs and surmises the toothless old dame, 
As she mumbles a crust she will mumble a name. 
And as the fell sisters astonished the Scot, 
In predicting of Banquo's descendants the lot, 
Making shadows of kings, amid flashes of light, 
To appear in array and to frown in his sight, 
So they conjure up spectres all hideous in hue, 
Which, as shades of their neighbours, are pass'd in re- 
view. 

The wives of our cits of inferior degree 
Will soak up repute in a little bohea ; 
The potion is vulgar, and vulgar the slang 
With which on their neighbours' defects they harangue ; 
But the scandal improves, a refinement in wrong ! 
As our matrons are richer, and rise to souchong. 
With hyson — a beverage that's still more refined, 
Our ladies of fashion enliven their mind, 
And by nods, innuendoes, and hints, and what not, 
Reputations and tea send together to pot. 
While madam in laces and cambrics array'd, 
With her plate and her liveries in splendid parade, 
Will drink in imperial a friend at a sup, 
Or in gunpowder blow them in dozens all up. 
Ah me ! how I groan when with full swelling sail 
Wafted stately along by the favouring gale, 
A China ship proudly arrives in our bay, 
Displaying her streamers and blazing away. 
Oh ! more fell to our port is the cargo she bears 
Than grenadoes, torpedoes, or warlike affairs : 
Each chest is a bombshell thrown into our town, 
To shatter repute and bring character down. 

Ye Samquas, ye Chinquas, ye Chonquas, so free, 
Who discharge on our coasts your cursed quantums of 

tea, 
Oh ! think, as ye waft the sad weed from your strand, 
Of the plagues and vexations ye deal to our land. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 137 

As the Upas' dread breath, or the plain where it flies, 
Empoisons and blasts each green blade that may rise, 
So, wherever the leaves of your shrub find their way, 
The social affections soon suffer decay : 
Like to Java's drear waste, they embarren the heart, 
Till the blossoms of love and friendship depart. 

Ah, ladies, and was it by Heaven design'd 
That ye should be merciful, loving, and kind ! 
Did it form you like angels, and send you below 
To prophecy peace — to bid charity flow ! 
And have you thus left your primeval estate, 
And wander'd so widely — so strangely of late ? 
Alas ! the sad cause I too plainly can see — 
These evils have all come upon you through tea ! 
Cursed weed, that can make our fair spirits resign 
The character mild of their mission divine ; 
That can blot from their bosoms that tenderness true, 
Which from female to female for ever is due ! 
O ! how nice is the texture — how fragile the frame 
Of that delicate blossom, a female's fair fame ! 
'Tis the sensitive plant, it recoils from the breath, 
And shrinks from the touch as if pregnant with death. 
How often, how often, has innocence sighed, 
Has beauty been 'reft of its honour — its pride, 
Has virtue, though pure as an angel of light, 
Been painted as dark as a demon of night, 
All offer'd up victims, an auto da fe, 
At the gloomy cabals — the dark orgies of tea ! 

If I, in the remnant that's left me of life, 
Am to suffer the torments of slanderous strife, 
Let me fall, I implore, in the slang-whanger's claw, 
Where the evil is open and subject to law; 
Not nibbled, and mumbled, and put to the rack, 
By the sly underminings of tea-party clack : 
Condemn me, ye gods, to a newspaper roasting, 
But spare me ! O spare me a tea-table toasting ! 
M 2 



138 BEAUTIES OF 



Description of the powerful Army that assembled at the 
City of New-Amsterdam — together with the interview 
between Peter the Headstrong and General Von Pof- 
fenburgh ; and Peter's Sentiments respecting unfortu- 
nate great Men. 

While thus the enterprising Peter was coasting, with 
flowing sail, up the shores of the lordly Hudson, and 
arousing all the phlegmatic little Dutch settlements up- 
on its borders, a great and puissant concourse of war- 
riors was assembling at the city of New- Amsterdam. 
And here that invaluable fragment of antiquity, the 
Stuyvesant manuscript, is more than commonly parti- 
cular; by which means I am enabled to record the 
illustrious host that encamped itself on the public square, 
in front of the fort, at present denominated the Bowling 
Green. 

In the centre then was pitched the tents of the men 
of battle of the Manhattoes ; who, being the inmates of 
the metropolis, composed the life-guards of the gover- 
nor. These were commanded by the valiant Stoffel 
Brinkerhoofj who whilome had acquired such immortal 
fame at Oyster Bay — they displayed as a standard, a 
beaver rampant on a field of orange ; being the arms of 
the province, and denoting the persevering industry, and 
the amphibious origin of the Nederlanders. * 

On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that 
renowned Mynheer Michael Paw,f who lorded it over 
the fair regions of ancient Pavonia, and the lands away 



* This was likewise the great seal of the New-Netherlands, as may 
stil be seen in ancient records, 

f Besides what is related in the Stuyvesant MS. I have found men- 
tion made of this illustrious Patroon in another manuscript, which 
says: — "De Heer (or the Squire) Michael Paw, a Dutch subject, 
about 10th Aug., 1630, by deed purchased Staten Island. N.B. The 
same Michael Paw had what the Dutch call a colonnie at Pavonia, 
on the Jersey shore, opposite New- York, and his overseer in 1636, 
was named Corns. Van Vorst— a person of the same name, in 1769, 
owned Pawles Hook, and a large farm at Pavonia, and is a lineal 
descendant from Van Vorst." 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 139 

south, even unto the Navesink mountains,* and was 
moreover patroon of Gibbet- Island. His standard was 
borne by his trusty squire, Cornelius Van Vorst ; con- 
sisting of a huge oyster recumbent upon a sea green 
field ; being the armorial bearings of his favourite me- 
tropolis, Communipaw. He brought to the camp a 
stout force of warriors, heavily armed, being each clad 
in ten pair of linsey woolsey breeches, and oversha- 
dowed by broad brimmed beavers, with short pipes 
twisted in their hat-bands. These were the men who 
vegetated in the mud along the shores of Pavonia; 
being of the race of genuine copperheads, and were 
fabled to have sprung from oysters. 

At a little distance was encamped the tribe of war- 
riors who came from the neighbourhood of Hell- Gate. 
These were commanded by the Suy Dams, and the Van 
Dams, incontinent hard swearers as their names beto- 
ken — they were terrible looking fellows, clad in broad- 
skirted gaberdines, of that curious coloured cloth called 
thunder and lightning; and bore as a standard three 
DeviPs-darning-needles, vocant, in a flame coloured field. 

Hard by was the tent of the men of battle from the 
marshy borders of the Wael-bogtig,f and the country 
thereabouts — these were of a sour aspect, by reason that 
they lived on crabs, which abound in these parts : they 
were the first institutors of that honourable order of 
knighthood, called Fly market shirks ; and if tradition 
speak true, did likewise introduce the far famed step in 
dancing, called "double trouble." They were com- 
manded by the fearless Jacobus Varra Vanger, and had, 
moreover, a jolly band of Breukelenf ferrymen, who 
performed a brave concerto on conchshells. 

But I refrain from pursuing this minute description, 



* So called from the Navesink tribe of Indians, that inhabited 
these parts— at present they are erroneously denominated the Never- 
sink, or Neversunk Mountains. 

t i. e. The Winding Bay, named from the winding of its shores. 
This has since been corrupted by the vulgar into the WcUlabout, and 
is the basin which shelters our infant navy. 

+ Now spelt Brooklyn. 



140 BEAUTIES OF 

which goes on to describe the warriors of Bloemen-dael, 
and Wee-hawk, and Hoboken, and sundry other places, 
well known in history and song — for now does the 
sound of martial music alarm the people of New Am- 
sterdam, sounding afar from beyond the walls of the city. 
But this alarm was in a little time relieved, for lo, from 
the midst of a vast cloud of dust, they recognised the 
brimstone coloured breeches, and splendid silver leg of 
Peter Stuyvesant glaring in the sunbeams ; and beheld 
him approaching at the head of a formidable army, which 
he had mustered along the banks of the Hudson. And 
here the excellent but anonymous writer of the Stuyve- 
sant manuscript breaks out into a brave but glorious de- 
scription of the forces, as they denied through the princi- 
pal gate of the city that stood by the head of Wall-street. 
First of all came the Van Bummels, who inhabit the 
pleasant borders of the Bronx. These were short fat 
men, wearing exceeding large trunk breeches, and are 
renowned for feats of the trencher : they were the first 
inventors of suppawn or mush and milk. — Close in 
their rear marched the Van Vlotans, of Kaats Kill, 
most horrible quaffers of new cyder, and arrant brag- 
garts in their liquor After them came the Van Pelts, 

of Groodt Esopus, dexterous horsemen, mounted upon 
goodly switch-tailed steeds of the Esopus breed : these 
were mighty hunters of minks and musk rats, whence 

came the word Peltry Then the Van Nests of Kin- 

derhoek, valiant robbers of birds' nests, as their name 
denotes : to these, if the report may be believed, are we 
indebted for the invention of slap-jacks, or buckwheat 

cakes Then the Van Higginbottoms, of Wapping's 

Creek : these came armed with ferules and birchen rods, 
being a race of schoolmasters, who first discovered the 
marvellous sympathy between the seat of honour and 
the seat of intellect, and that the shortest way to get 
knowledge into the head was to hammer it into the bot- 
tom Then the Van Grolls of Anthony's Nose, who 

carried their liquor in fair round little pottles, by reason 
they could not bouse it out of their canteens, having 
such rare long noses. — Then the Gardeniers, of Hud- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 141 

son and thereabouts, distinguished by many triumphant 
feats, such as robbing water-melon patches, smoking 
rabbits out of their holes, and the like, and by being 
great lovers of roasted pigs' tails : these were the ances- 
tors of the renowned congressman of that name — Then 
the Van Hoesens of Sing- Song, great choristers and 
players upon the Jew's-harp : these marched two and 
two, singing the great song of St. Nicholas. — Then the 
Couenhovens, of Sleepy Hollow : these gave birth to a 
jolly race of publicans, who first discovered the magic 
art of conjuring a quart of wine into a pint bottle. — 
Then the Van Kortlandts, who lived on the wild banks 
of the Croton, and were great killers of wild ducks, be- 
ing much spoken of for their skill in shooting with the 
long bow — Then the Van Bunschotens, of Nyock and 
Kakiat, who were the first that did ever kick with the 
left foot : they were gallant bush-whackers, and hunters 
of racoons by moontight. — Then the Van Winkles of 
Haerlem, potent suckers of eggs, and noted for running 
of horses, and running up of scores at taverns : they 
were the first that ever winked with both eyes at once. 
— Lastly, came the Knickerbockers, of the great town 
of Schahtikoke, where the folk lay stones upon the 
houses in windy weather, lest they should be blown 
away. These derive their name, as some say, from 
Kniker, to shake, and Becker, a goblet, indicating thereby 
that they were sturdy tosspots of yore ; but, in truth, it was 
derived from Knicker, to nod, and JBoeken, books, plainly 
meaning that they were great nodders or dozers over 
books : from them did descend the writer of this history. 
Such was the legion of sturdy bush-beaters, that 
poured in at the grand gate of New- Amsterdam. The 
Stuyvesant manuscript, indeed, speaks of many more, 
whose names I omit to mention, seeing that it behoves 
me to hasten to matters of greater moment. Nothing 
could surpass the joy and martial pride of the lion- 
hearted Peter, as he reviewed this mighty host of war- 
riors ; and he determined no longer to defer the gratifi- 
cation of his much-wished-for revenge, upon the scoun- 
drel Swedes at Fort Casimir. 



142 BEAUTIES OF 

But before I hasten to record those unmatchable 
events which will be found in the sequel of this faithful 
history, let me pause to notice the fate of Jacobus Von 
Poffenburgh, the discomfited commander-in-chief of the 
armies of the New- Netherlands. Such is the inherent 
uncharitableness of human nature, that scarcely did the 
news become public, of his deplorable discomfiture at 
Fort Casimir, than a thousand scurvy rumours were set 
afloat in New- Amsterdam ; wherein it was insinuated, 
that he had in reality a treacherous understanding with 
the Swedish commander ; that he had long been in the 
practice of privately communicating with the Swedes ; 
together with divers hints about " secret service money," 
— to all which deadly charges I do not give a jot more 
credit than I think they deserve. 

Certain it is, that the general vindicated his character 
by the most vehement oaths and protestations, and put 
every man out of the ranks of honour who dared to doubt 
his integrity. Moreover, on returning to New- Amster- 
dam, he paraded up and down the streets with a crew of 
hard swearers at his heels, — sturdy bottle companions, 
whom he gorged and fattened, and who were ready to 
bolster him through all the courts of justice, — heroes of 
his own kidney, fierce whiskered, broad shouldered, col- 
brand looking swaggerers, not one of whom but looked 
as though he could eat up an ox, and pick his teeth with 
the horns. These life-guard men quarrelled all his 
quarrels, were ready to fight all his battles, and scowled 
at every man that turned up his nose to the general, as 
though they would devour him alive. Their conversa- 
tion was interspersed with oaths like minute guns, and 
every bombastic rhodomontado was rounded off by a 
thundering execration, like a patriotic toast honoured 
with a discharge of artillery. 

All these valorous vapourings had a considerable ef- 
fect in convincing certain profound sages, many of whom 
began to think the general a hero of unutterable lofti- 
ness and magnanimity of soul, particularly as he was 
continually protesting on the honour of a soldier, — a mar- 
vellously high sounding asseveration. Nay, one of the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 143 

members of the council went so far as to propose they 
should immortalize him by an imperishable statue of 
plaster of Paris. 

But the vigilant Peter the Headstrong was not thus 
to be deceived. Sending privately for the commander- 
in-chief of all the armies, and having heard all his story, 
garnished with the customary pious oaths, protesta- 
tions, and ejaculations — " Harkee, comrade," cried he, 
" though by your own account you are the most brave, 
upright, and honourable man in the whole province, yet 
do you lie under the misfortune of being damnably tra- 
duced and immeasurably despised. Now, though it is 
certainly hard to punish a man for his misfortunes, and 
though it is very possible you are totally innocent of the 
crimes laid to your charge, yet as heaven, at present, 
doubtless for some wise purpose, sees fit to withhold all 
proofs of your innocence, far be it from me to counter- 
act its sovereign will. Beside, I cannot consent to ven- 
ture my armies with a commander whom they despise, 
or to trust the welfare of my people to a champion 
whom they distrust. Retire therefore, my friend, from 
the irksome toils and cares of public life, with this com- 
forting reflection — that if you be guilty, you are but 
enjoying your just reward — and if innocent, that you 
are not the first great and good man, who has most 
wrongfully been slandered and maltreated in this wicked 
world, doubtless to be better treated in a better world, 
where there shall neither be error, calumny, nor perse- 
cution. In the mean time let me never see your face 
again, for I have a horrid antipathy to the countenances 
of unfortunate great men like yourself." 



Of Peter Stuyvesanfs expedition into the East Country ; 
showing that, though an old Bird, he did not understand 
Trap. 

Great nations resemble great men in this particular, 
that their greatness is seldom known until they get in 
trouble ; adversity, therefore, has been wisely denomi- 



144 BEAUTIES OF 

nated the ordeal of true greatness, which, like gold, can 
never receive its real estimation until it has passed 
through the furnace. In proportion, therefore, as a na- 
tion, a community, or an individual (possessing the in- 
herent quality of greatness) is involved in perils and 
misfortunes, in proportion does it rise in grandeur — and 
even when sinking under calamity, makes, like a house 
on fire, a more glorious display than ever it did, in the 
fairest period of its prosperity. 

The vast empire of China, though teeming with po- 
pulation, and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of 
nations, has vegetated through a succession of drowsy 
ages ; and were it not for its internal revolution, and 
the subversion of its ancient government by the Tar- 
tars, might have presented nothing but an uninteresting 
detail of dull, monotonous prosperity. Pompeii and 
Herculaneum might have passed into oblivion, with a 
herd of their contemporaries, had they not been fortu- 
nately overwhelmed by a volcano. The renowned city 
of Troy has acquired celebrity only from its ten years' 
distress and final conflagration ; Paris rises in impor- 
tance by the plots and massacres which have ended in 
the exaltation of the illustrious Napoleon; and even 
the mighty London itself has skulked through the re- 
cords of time, celebrated for nothing of moment, ex- 
cepting the plague, the great fire, and Guy Faux's gun- 
powder plot ! Thus cities and empires seem to creep 
along, enlarging in silent obscurity under the pen of the 
historian, until at length they burst forth in some tre- 
mendous calamity, and snatch, as it were, immortality 
from the explosion ! 

The above principle being admitted, my reader will 
plainly perceive that the city of New- Amsterdam and 
its dependent province are on the high road to greatness. 
Dangers and hostilities threaten from every side, and it 
is really a matter of astonishment to me, how so small 
a state has been able, in so short a time, to entangle 
itself in so many difficulties. Ever since the province 
was first taken by the nose, at the Fort of Good Hope, 
in the tranquil days of Wouter Van Twiller, has it been 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 145 

gradually increasing in historic importance ; and never 
could it have had a more appropriate chieftain to con- 
duct it to the pinnacle of grandeur than Peter Stuyve- 
sant. 

In the fiery heart of this iron- headed old warrior sat 
enthroned all those five kinds of courage described by 
Aristotle ; and had the philosopher mentioned five 
hundred more to the back of them, I verily believe he 
would have been found master of them all. The only 
misfortune was, that he was deficient in the better part 
of valour, called discretion, a cold-blooded virtue which 
could not exist in the tropical climate of his mighty 
soul. Hence it was, he was continually hurrying into 
those unheard-of enterprises that gave an air of chivalric 
romance to all his history ; and hence it was, that he 
now conceived a project worthy of the hero of La 
Mancha himself. 

This was no other than to repair in person to the 
great council of the Amphyctions, bearing the sword in 
one hand, and the olive branch in the other ; to require 
immediate reparation for the innumerable violations of 
that treaty, which, in an evil hour, he had formed ; to 
put a stop to those repeated maraudings on the eastern 
borders ; or else to throw the gauntlet, and appeal to 
arms for satisfaction. 

On declaring this resolution in his privy council, the 
venerable members were seized with vast astonishment : 
for once in their lives they ventured to remonstrate, set- 
ting forth the rashness of exposing his sacred person in 
the midst of a strange and barbarous people, with sun- 
dry other weighty remonstrances — all which had about 
as much influence upon the determination of the head- 
strong Peter, as though you were to endeavour to turn 
a rusty weathercock with a broken-winded bellows. 

Summoning, therefore, to his presence, his trusty fol- 
lower, Anthony Van Corlear, he commanded him to 
hold himself in readiness to accompany him the follow- 
ing morning on this his hazardous enterprise. Now 
Anthony, the trumpeter, was a little stricken in years 
yet by dint of keeping up a good heart, and having ne- 



146 BEAUTIES OF 

ver known care or sorrow, (having never been married); 
he was still a hearty, jocund, rubicond, gamesome wag, 
and of great capacity in the doublet. This last was 
ascribed to his living a jolly life on those domains at 
the Hook, which Peter Stuyvesant had granted to him 
for his gallantry at Fort Casimir. 

Be this as it may, there was nothing that more de- 
lighted Anthony than this command of the great Peter ; 
for he could have followed the stout-hearted old gover- 
nor to the world's end, with love and loyalty : and he 
moreover still remembered the frolicking, and dancing, 
and bundling, and other disports of the east country ; 
and entertained dainty recollection of numerous kind 
and buxom lasses, whom he longed exceedingly again to 
encounter. 

Thus, then, did this mirror of hardihood set forth, 
with no other attendant but his trumpeter, upon one of 
the most perilous enterprises ever recorded in the an- 
nals of knight-errantry. For a single warrior to venture 
openly among a whole nation of foes ; but, above all, 
for a plain, downright Dutchman to think of negociat- 
ing with the whole council of New-England — never 
was there known a more desperate undertaking ! Ever 
since I have entered upon the chronicles of this peer- 
less, but hitherto uncelebrated chieftain, has he kept me 
in a state of incessant action and anxiety with the toils 
and dangers he is constantly encountering. Oh ! for a 
chapter of the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, 
that I might repose on it as on a feather bed ! 

Is it not enough, Peter Stuyvesant, that I have once 
already rescued thee from the machinations of these 
terrible Amphyctions, by bringing the whole powers of 
witchcraft to thine aid ? — Is it not enough, that I have 
followed thee undaunted, like a guardian spirit, into the 
midst of the horrid battle of Fort Christina ? That I 
have been put incessantly to my trumps to keep thee 
safe and sound — -now warding off with my single pen 
the shower of dastard blows that fell upon thy rear — 
now narrowly shielding thee from a deadly thrust, by a 
mere tobacco-box — now casing thy dauntless skull with 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 147 

adamant, when even thy stubborn ram-beaver failed to 
resist the sword of the stout Risingh — and now, not 
merely bringing thee off alive, but triumphant, from the 
clutches of the gigantic Swede, by the desperate means 
of a paltry stone pottle ? — Is not all this enough, but 
must thou still be plunging into new difficulties, and 
jeopardizing in headlong enterprises thyself, thy trum- 
peter, and thy historian ? 

And now the ruddy faced Aurora, like a buxom 
chambermaid, draws aside the sable curtains of the 
night, and out bounces from his bed the jolly red-haired 
Phoebus, startled at being caught so late in the embraces 
of Dame Thetis. With many a stable oath, he har- 
nessed his brazen-footed steeds, and whips and lashes, 
and splashes up the firmament, like a loitering post-boy, 
half an hour behind his time. And now behold that 
imp of fame and prowess, the headstrong Peter, be- 
striding a raw-boned, switch-tailed charger, gallantly 
arrayed in full regimentals, and bracing on his thigh 
that truly brass-hilted sword, which had wrought such 
fearful deeds on the banks of the Delaware. 

Behold, hard after him, his doughty trumpeter, Van 
Corlear, mounted on a broken winded, wall-eyed, calico 
mare ; his stone pottle, which had laid low the mighty 
Risingh, slung under his arm, and his trumpet displayed 
vauntingly in his right hand, decorated with a gorgeous 
banner, on which is emblazoned the great beaver of the 
Manhattoes. See them proudly issuing out of the city 
gate, like an iron-clad hero of yore, with his faithful 
squire at his heels, the populace following them with 
their eyes, and shouting many a parting wish, and hearty 

cheering. Farewell, Hard-koppig Piet! Farewell, 

honest Anthony ! — Pleasant be your wayfaring — pros- 
perous your return ! The stoutest hero that ever drew 
a sword, and the worthiest trumpeter that ever trod shoe 
leather. 

Legends are lamentably silent about the events that 
befell our adventurers in this their adventurous travel, 
excepting the Stuyvesant manuscript, which gives the 
substance of a pleasant little heroic poem, written on the 



148 BEAUTIES OF 

occasion by Domini iEgidius Luyck,* who appears to 
have been the poet-laureate of New- Amsterdam. This 
inestimable manuscript assures us, that it was a rare 
spectacle to behold the great Peter, and his loyal fol- 
lower, hailing the morning sun, and rejoicing in the clear 
countenance of nature, as they pranced it through the 
pastoral scenes of Bloemen Dael ;f which, in those 
days, was a wild flower, refreshed by many a pure 
streamlet, and enlivened here and there by a delectable 
little Dutch cottage, sheltering under some sloping hill, 
and almost buried in embowering trees. 

Now did they enter upon the confines of Connecti- 
cut, where they encountered many grievous difficulties 
and perils. At one place they were assailed by a troop 
of country squires and militia colonels, who, mounted 
on goodly steeds, hung upon their rear for several miles, 
harassing them exceedingly with guesses and questions, 
more especially the worthy Peter, whose silver-chased 
leg excited not a little marvel. At another place, hard 
by the renowned town of Stamford, they were set upon 
by a great and mighty legion of church deacons, who 
imperiously demanded of them five shillings for travel- 
ling on Sunday, and threatened to carry them captive 
to a neighbouring church, whose steeple peered above 
the trees ; but these the valiant Peter put to rout with 
little difficulty, insomuch that they bestrode their canes 
and galloped off in horrible confusion, leaving their 
cocked hats behind in the hurry of their flight. But 
not so easily did he escape from the hands of a crafty 
man of Pyquag, who, with undaunted perseverance, and 
repeated onsets, fairly bargained him out of his goodly 
switch-tailed charger, leaving him in place thereof a 
villanous, spavined, foundered Narraganset pacer. 

But, maugre all these hardships, they pursued their 
journey cheerily along the course of the soft flowing 



* This Luyck was, moreover, rector of the Latin school in Nieuw- 
Nederlandts, 1663. There are two pieces of ^Egidius Luyck in D. 
Selyn's MSS. of poesies, upon his marriage with Judith Isendoorn. 
Old MS. 

t Now called Blooming Dale, about four miles from New- York. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 149 

Connecticut, whose gentle waves, says the song, roll 
through many a fertile vale and sunny plain ; now re- 
flecting the lofty spires of the bustling city, and now the 
rural beauties of the humble hamlet ; now echoing with 
the busy hum of commerce, and now with the cheerful 
song of the peasant. 

At every town would Peter Stuyvesant, who was 
noted for warlike punctilio, order the sturdy Anthony 
to sound a courteous salutation ; though the manuscript 
observes, that the inhabitants were thrown into great 
dismay when they heard of his approach. For the 
fame of his incomparable achievements on the Dela- 
ware had spread throughout the east country, and they 
dreaded lest he had come to take vengeance on their 
manifold transgressions. 

But the good Peter rode through these towns with a 
smiling aspect ; waving his hand with inexpressible ma- 
jesty and condescension ; for he verily believed that the 
old clothes which these ingenious people had thrust into 
their broken windows, and the festoons of dried apples 
and peaches which ornamented the fronts of their houses, 
were so many decorations in honour of his approach ; 
as it was the custom in the days of chivalry to compli- 
ment renowned heroes, by sumptuous displays of tapes- 
try and gorgeous furniture. The women crowded to 
the doors to gaze upon him as he passed, so much does 
prowess in arms delight the gentle sex. The little 
children too, ran after him in troops, staring with won- 
der at his regimentals, his brimstone breeches, and the 
silver garniture of his wooden leg. Nor must I omit 
to mention the joy which many strapping wenches be- 
trayed, at beholding the jovial Van Corlear, who had 
whilome delighted them so much with his trumpet, when 
he bore the great Peter's challenge to the Amphyctions. 
The kind-hearted Anthony alighted from his calico 
mare, and kissed them all with infinite loving kindness 
— and was right pleased to see a crew of little trum- 
peters crowding around him for his blessing ; each of 
whom he patted on the head, bade him be a good boy, 
and gave him a penny to buy molasses candy. 



150 BEAUTIES OF 

The Stuyvesant manuscript makes but little further 
mention of the governor's adventures upon this expedi- 
tion, excepting that he was received with extravagant 
courtesy and respect by the great council of the Am- 
phyctions, who almost talked him to death with com- 
plimentary and congratulatory harangues. I will not 
detain my readers by dwelling on his negociations with 
the grand council. Suffice it to mention, it was like 
all other negociations — a great deal was said, and very 
little done : one conversation led to another — one con- 
ference begat misunderstandings which it took a dozen 
conferences to explain ; at the end of which the parties 
found themselves just where they were at first ; excepting 
that they had entangled themselves in a host of ques- 
tions of etiquette, and conceived a cordial distrust of 
each other, that rendered their future negociations ten 
times more difficult than ever.* 

In the midst of all these perplexities, which bewil- 
dered the brain and incensed the ire of the sturdy Peter, 
who was perhaps, of all men in the world, least fitted 
for diplomatic wiles, he privately received the first inti- 
mation of the dark conspiracy which had been matured 
in the Cabinet of England. To this was added the 
astounding intelligence that a hostile squadron had al- 
ready sailed from England, destined to reduce the pro- 
vince of New- Netherlands, and that the grand council 
of Amphyctions had engaged to co-operate, by sending 
a great army to invade New- Amsterdam by land. 

Unfortunate Peter ! did I not enter with sad forebod- 
ings upon this ill starred expedition ? Did I not trem- 
ble when I saw thee with no other counsellor but thine 
own head — with no other armour but an honest tongue, 
a spotless conscience, and a rusty sword — with no other 
protector but St. Nicholas — and no other attendant but 
a trumpeter ? Did I not tremble when I beheld thee 



* For certain of the particulars of this ancient negotiation, see 
Haz. Col. State Pap. It is singular that Smith is entirely silent with | 
respect to this memorable expedition of Peter Stuyve6ant. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 151 

thus sally forth to contend with all the knowing powers 
of New- England? 

Oh how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, 
when he found himself thus entrapped, like a lion in the 
hunter's toil! Now did he determine to draw his 
trusty sword, and manfully to fight his way through all 
the countries of the east. Now did he resolve to break 
in upon the council of the Amphyctions, and put every 
mother's son of them to death. At length, as his dire- 
ful wrath subsided, he resorted to safer though less glo- 
rious expedients. 

Concealing from the council his knowledge of their 
machinations, he privately despatched a trusty messen- 
ger with missives to his counsellors at New- Amsterdam, 
apprising them of the impending danger, commanding 
them immediately to put the city in a posture of defence, 
while in the meantime he would endeavour to elude his 
enemies and come to their assistance. This done, he 
felt himself marvellously relieved, rose slowly, shook 
himself like a rhinoceros, and issued forth from his den, 
in much the same manner as Giant Despair is described 
to have issued from Doubting Castle, in the chivalric 
history of the Pilgrim's Progress. 

And now much does it grieve me that I must leave 
the gallant Peter in this imminent jeopardy; but it 
behoves us to hurry back and see what is going on at 
New- Amsterdam, for greatly do I fear that city is al- 
ready in a turmoil. Such was ever the fate of Peter 
Stuyvesant; while doing one thing with heart and 
soul, he was too apt to leave every thing else at sixes 
and sevens. While, like a potentate of yore, he was 
absent attending to those things in person, which in 
modern days are trusted to generals and ambassadors, 
his little territory at home was sure to get in an uproar 
— all which was owing to that uncommon strength of 
intellect, which induced him to trust to nobody but him- 
self, and which had acquired him the renowned appella- 
tion of Peter the Headstrong. 



152 BEAUTIES OF 



How the people of New-Amsterdam were thrown into a 
great Panic by the News of a threatened Invasion : and 
the Manner in which they fortified themselves. 

There is no sight more truly interesting to a philoso- 
pher than to contemplate a community where every in- 
dividual has a voice in public affairs, where every indi- 
vidual thinks himself the Atlas of the nation, and where 
every individual thinks it his duty to bestir himself for 
the good of his country. — I say, there is nothing more 
interesting to a philosopher than to see such a commu- 
nity in a sudden bustle of war. Such a clamour of 
tongues, such a bawling of patriotism, such running 
hither and thither, every body in a hurry, every body up 
to the ears in trouble, every body in the way, and every 
body interrupting his industrious neighbour, who is 
busily employed in doing nothing ! It is like witness- 
ing a great fire, where every man is at work like a hero ; 
some dragging about empty engines ! others scampering 
with full buckets, and spilling the contents into the 
boots of their neighbour ; and others ringing the church 
bells at night, by way of putting out the fire. Little 
firemen, like sturdy little knights storming a breach, 
clambering up and down scaling-ladders, and bawling 
through tin trumpets, by way of directing the attack. 
Here one busy fellow, in his great zeal to save the pro- 
perty of the unfortunate, catches up an anonymous 
chamber utensil, and gallants it off with an air of as 
much self importance, as if he had rescued a pot of 
money ; another throws looking glasses and china out 
of the window, to save them from the flames ; while 
those, who can do nothing else to assist the great cala- 
mity, run up and down the streets with open throats, 
keeping up an incessant cry of — Fire ! Fire ! Fire / 

" When the news arrived at Sinope," says the grave 
and profound Lucian, though I own the story is rather 
trite, " that Philip was about to attack them, the inha- 
bitants were thrown into violent alarm. Some ran to 
furbish up their arms ; others rolled stones to build up 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 153 

the walls; every body, in short, was employed, and 
every b'o'dy was in the way of his neighbour. Diogenes 
alone was the only man who could find nothing to do ; 
whereupon, determining not to be idle when the wel- 
fare of his country was at stake, he tucked up his robe, 
and fell to rolling his tub with might and main, up and 
down the Gymnasium. " In like manner did every mo- 
ther's son, in the patriotic community of New- Amster- 
dam, on receiving the missives of Peter Stuyvesant, 
busy himself most mightily in putting things into con- 
fusion, and assisting the general uproar. " Every man," 
saith the Stuyvesant manuscript, "flew to arms !" By 
which is meant, that not one of our honest Dutch citi- 
zens would venture to church or to market, without an 
old fashioned spit of a sword dangling at his side, and a 
long Dutch fowling-piece on his shoulder; nor would 
he go out of a night without a lanthorn ! nor turn a 
corner without first peeping cautiously round, lest he 
should come unawares upon a British army ; and we 
are informed, that Stoffel Brinkerhoff, who was consi- 
dered by the old women almost as brave a man as the 
governor himself, actually had two one-pound swivels 
mounted in his entry, one pointing out at the front door 
and the other at the back. 

But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this 
awful occasion, and one which has since been found of 
wonderful efficacy, was to assemble popular meetings. 
These brawling convocations, I have already shown, 
were extremely offensive to Peter Stuyvesant ; but as 
this was a moment of unusual agitation, and as the old 
governor was not present to repress them, they broke 
out with intolerable violence. Hither, therefore, the 
orators and politicians repaired, and there seemed to be 
a competition among them who should bawl the loudest, 
and exceed the others in hyperbolical bursts of pat- 
riotism, and in resolutions to uphold and defend the 
government. In these sage and all powerful meetings 
it was determined, nem. con. that they were the most 
enlightened, the most dignified, the most formidable, 
and the most ancient community upon the face of the 



154 BEAUTIES OF 

earth. Finding that this resolution was so universally 
and readily carried, another was immediately proposed, 
— Whether it were not possible and politic to extermi- 
nate Great Britain ? Upon which sixty-nine members 
spoke most eloquently in the affirmative, and only one 
arose to suggest some doubts, who, as a punishment for 
his treasonable presumption, was immediately seized by 
the mob, and tarred and feathered ; which punishment 
being equivalent to the Tarpeian Rock, he was after- 
wards considered as an outcast from society, and his 
opinion went for nothing. The question, therefore, 
being unanimously carried in the affirmative, it was re- 
commended to the grand council to pass it into a law, 
which was accordingly done ; by this measure the hearts 
of the people at large were wonderfully encouraged, and 
they waxed exceedingly choleric and valorous. Indeed, 
the first paroxysm of alarm having in some measure sub- 
sided, the old women having buried all the money they 
could lay their hands on, and their husbands daily get- 
ting fuddled with what was left — the community began 
even to stand on the offensive. Songs were manufac- 
tured in low Dutch, and sung about the streets, wherein 
the English were most wofully beaten, and shown no 
quarter ; and popular addresses were made, wherein it 
was proved to a certainty, that the fate of old England 
depended upon the will of the New- Amsterdammers. 

Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of 
Great' Britain, a multitude of the wiser inhabitants as- 
sembled, and having purchased all the British manufac- 
tures they could find, they made thereof a huge bonfire ; 
and, in the patriotic glow of the moment, every man 
present, who had a hat or breeches of English work- 
manship, pulled it off, and threw it most undauntedly 
into the flames — to the irreparable detriment, loss, and 
ruin of the English manufacturers. In commemoration 
of this great exploit, they erected a pole on the spot, 
with a device on the top intended to represent the pro- 
vince of Nieuw Nederlandts destroying Great Britain, 
under the similitude of an Eagle picking the little Island 
of Old England out of the globe ; but either through 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 155 

the unskilf illness of the sculptor, or his ill timed wag- 
gery, it bore a striking resemblance to a goose vainly 
striving to get hold of a dumpling. 



In which the Troubles of New-Amsterdam appear to 
thicken — Showing the Bravery, in Time of Peril, of a 
People who defend themselves by Resolutions, 

Like as an assemblage of politic cats, engaged in cla- 
morous gibberings andcatterwaulings, eyeing one another 
with hideous grimaces, spitting in each other's faces, 
and on the point of breaking forth into a general clap- 
per-clawing, are suddenly put to scampering, rout, and 
confusion, by the startling appearance of a house-dog — 
so was the no less vociferous council of New- Amster- 
dam amazed, astounded, and totally dispersed, by the 
sudden arrival of the enemy. Every member made the 
best of his way home, waddling along as fast as his 
short legs could fag under their heavy burthen, and 
wheezing as he went with corpulency and terror. When 
he arrived at his castle, he barricadoed the street door, 
and buried himself in the cider cellar, without daring 
to peep out, lest he should have his head carried off by 
a cannon ball. 

The sovereign people all crowded into the market- 
place, herding together with the instinct of sheep, who seek 
for safety in each other's company, when the shepherd 
and his dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round 
the fold. Far from rinding relief, however, they only 
increased each other's terrors. Each man looked rue- 
fully in his neighbour's face, in search of encouragement, 
but only found, in its woe-begone lineaments, a confir- 
mation of his own dismay. Not a word now was to be 
heard of conquering Great Britain, not a whisper about 
the sovereign virtues of economy — while the old women 
heightened the general gloom, by clamorously bewail- 
ing their fate, and incessantly calling for protection on 
St. Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant. 

Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the lion-heart- 



156 BEAUTIES OF 

ed Peter ! — and how did they long for the comforting 
presence of Anthony Van Corlear ! Indeed, a gloomy 
uncertainty hung over the fate of these adventurous 
heroes. Day after day had elapsed since the alarming 
message from the governor, without bringing any further 
tidings of his safety. Many a fearful conjecture was 
hazarded as to what had befallen him and his loyal 
squire. Had they not been devoured alive by the can- 
nibals of Marblehead and Cape Cod ? Were they not 
put to the question by the great council of Amphyc- 
tions ? Were they not smothered in onions by the ter- 
rible men of Pyquag ? In the midst of this consterna- 
tion and perplexity, when horror, like a mighty night- 
mare, sat brooding upon the little, fat, plethoric city of 
New- Amsterdam, the ears of the multitude were sud- 
denly startled by a strange and distant sound — it ap- 
proached — it grew louder and louder — and now it re- 
sounded at the city gate. The public could not be 
mistaken in the well known sound. A shout of joy 
burst from their lips, as the gallant Peter, covered with 
dust, and followed by his faithful trumpeter, came gal- 
loping into the market-place. 

The first transports of the populace having subsided, 
they gathered round the honest Anthony, as he dis- 
mounted from his horse, overwhelming him with greet- 
ings and congratulations. In breathless accents he 
related to them the marvellous adventures through which 
the old governor and himself had gone, in making their 
escape from the clutches of the terrible Amphyctions. 
But though the Stuyvesant manuscript, with its cus- 
tomary minuteness, where any thing touching the great 
Peter is concerned, is very particular as to the incidents 
of this masterly retreat, yet the particular state of the 
public affairs will not allow me to indulge in a full 
recital thereof. Let it suffice to say, that, while Peter 
Stuyvesant was anxiously revolving in his mind how he 
could make good his escape with honour and dignity, 
certain of the ships sent out for the conquest of the 
Manhattoes touched at the eastern ports, to obtain need- 
ful supplies, and to call on the grand council of the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 157 

league for its promised co-operation. Upon hearing of 
this, the vigilant Peter perceiving that a moment's delay 
were fatal, made a secret and precipitate decampment ; 
though much did it grieve his lofty soul, to be obliged to 
turn his back even upon a nation of foes. Many hair- 
breadth 'scapes and divers perilous mishaps did they 
sustain, as they scoured, without sound of trumpet, 
through the fair regions of the east. Already was the 
country in an uproar with hostile preparation, and they 
were obliged to take a large circuit in their flight, lurk- 
ing along, through the woody mountains of the Devil's 
Backbone ; from whence the valiant Peter sallied forth 
one day, like a lion, and put to rout a whole legion of 
squatters, consisting of three generations of a prolific 
family, who were already on their way to take posses- 
sion of some corner of the New Netherlands. Nay, 
the faithful Anthony had great difficulty at sundry 
times to prevent him, in the excess of his wrath, from 
descending down from the mountains, and falling sword 
in hand upon certain of the border-towns, who were 
marshalling forth their draggle-tailed militia. 

The first movements of the governor, on reaching his 
dwelling, was to mount the roof, from whence he con- 
templated with rueful aspect the hostile squadron. This 
had already come to an anchor in the bay, and consisted 
of two stout frigates, having on board, as John Josselyn 
Gent, inform us, "three hundred valiant red coats." 
Having taken this survey, he sat himself down, and 
wrote an epistle to the commander, demanding his rea- 
son of anchoring in the harbour without obtaining pre- 
vious permission so to do. This letter was couched in 
the most dignified and courteous terms, though I have it 
from undoubted authority, that his teeth were clenched, 
and he had a bitter sardonic grin upon his visage, all the 
while he wrote. Having despatched his letter, the grim 
Peter stumped to and fro about the town, with a most 
war-betokening countenance, his hands thrust into his 
breeches pockets, and whistling a low Dutch Psalm tune, 
which bore no small resemblance to the music of a 
north-east wind, when a storm is brewing. The very 
o 



158 BEAUTIES OF 

dogs, as they eyed him, skulked away in dismay — while 
all the old and ugly women of New- Amsterdam ran 
howling at his heels, imploring him to save them from 
murder, robbery, and pitiless ravishment ! 

The reply of Col. Nicholas, who commanded the in- 
vaders, was couched in terms of equal courtesy with the 
letter of the governor — declaring the right and title of 
his British majesty to the province; where he affirmed 
the Dutch to be mere interlopers ; and demanding that 
the town, forts, &c. should be forthwith rendered into his 
majesty's obedience and protection — promising at the 
sametime, life, liberty, estate, and free trade, to every 
Dutch denizen, who should readily submit to his majes- 
ty's government. 

Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle with 
some such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a crusty 
farmer, who has long been fattening upon his neighbour's 
soil, reads the loving letter of John Stiles, that warns 
him of an action of ejectment. The old governor, how- 
ever, was not to be taken by surprise, but thrusting the 
summons into his breeches pocket, he stalked three 
times across the room, took a pinch of snuff with great 
vehemence, and then loftily waving his hand, promised 
to send an answer the next morning. In the meantime he 
called a general council of war of his privy counsellors 
and burgomasters, not for the purpose of asking their 
advice, for that, as has been already shown, he valued 
not a rush ; but to make known to them his sovereign 
determination, and require their prompt adherence. 

Before, however, he convened his council, he resolved 
upon three important points ; first, never to give up the 
city, without a little hard fighting, for he deemed it 
highly derogatory to the dignity of so renowned a city, 
to suffer itself to be captured and stripped, without re- 
ceiving a few kicks into the bargain. Secondly, that 
the majority of his grand council was composed of ar- 
rant poltroons, utterly destitute of true bottom ; and, 
thirdly, that he would not therefore suffer them to see 
the summons of Col. Nicholas, lest the easy terms it 
held out might induce them to clamour for a surrender. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 159 

His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous 
sight to behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had 
demolished the whole British empire in their harangues, 
peeping ruefully out of their hiding places, and then 
crawling cautiously forth, dodging through narrow lanes 
and alleys : starting at every little dog that barked, as 
though it had been a discharge of artillery — mistaking 
lamp-posts for British grenadiers, and in the excess of 
their panic, metamorphosing pumps into formidable 
soldiers, levelling blunderbuses at their bosoms ! Hav- 
ing, however, in despite of numerous perils and difficul- 
ties of the kind, arrived safe without the loss of a single 
man, at the hall of assembly, they took their seats and 
awaited in fearful silence the arrival of the governor. 
In a few moments the wooden leg of the intrepid Peter 
was heard in regular and stout-hearted thumps upon 

the staircase He entered the chamber, arrayed in full 

suit of regimentals, and carrying his trusty toledo, not 
girded on his thigh, but tucked under his arm. As the 
governor never equipped himself in this portentous man- 
ner, unless something of martial nature were working 
within his fearless perecranium, his council regarded him 
ruefully, as a very Janus, bearing fire and sword in his 
iron countenance, and forgot to light their pipes in 
breathless suspense. 

The great Peter was as eloquent as he was valorous ; 
indeed, these two rare qualities seemed to go hand in 
hand in his composition ; and, unlike most great states- 
men, whose victories are only confined to the bloodless 
field of argument, he was always ready to enforce his 
hardy words by no less hardy deeds. His speeches 
were generally marked by a simplicity approaching to 
bluntness, and by truly categorical decision. Addres- 
sing the grand council, he touched briefly upon the 
perils and hardships he had sustained, in escaping from 
his crafty foes. He next reproached the council for 
wasting in idle debate and party feuds that time which 
should have been devoted to their country. He was 
particularly indignant at those brawlers, who, conscious 
of individual security, had disgraced the councils of the 



160 BEAUTIES OF 

province, by impotent hectorings and scurrilous invec- 
tives, against a noble and powerful enemy — those cow- 
ardly curs who were incessant in their barkings and 
yelpings at the lion, while distant or asleep, but the 
moment he approached, were the first to skulk away. 
He now called on those who had been so valiant in their 
threats against Great Britain, to stand forth and sup- 
port their vaun tings by their actions — for it was deeds, 
not words, that bespoke the spirit of a nation. He pro- 
ceeded to recall the golden days of former prosperity, 
which were only to be gained by manfully withstanding 
their enemies ; for the peace, he observed, which is ef- 
fected by force of arms, is always more sure and durable 
than that which is patched up by temporary accommoda- 
tions. He endeavoured, moreover, to arouse their 
martial fire, by reminding them of the time, when, be- 
fore the frowning walls of fort Christina, he had led 
them on to victory. He strove likewise to awaken 
their confidence, by assuring them of the protection of 
St. Nicholas, who had hitherto maintained them in safe- 
ty, amid all the savages of the wilderness, the witches, 
and squatters of the east, and the giants of Merry-land. 
Finally, he informed them of the insolent summons 
he had received, to surrender ; but concluded by swear- 
ing to defend the province as long as heaven was on 
his side, and he had a wooden leg to stand upon. Which 
noble sentence he emphasized by a tremendous thwack 
with the broad side of his sword upon the table, that 
totally electrified his auditors. 

The privy counsellors, who had long been accustom- 
ed to the governor's way, and in fact had been brought 
( into as perfect discipline as were ever the soldiers of 
the great Frederick, saw that there was no use in say- 
ing a word — so lighted their pipes and smoked away in 
silence like fat and discreet counsellors. But the bur- 
gomasters being less under the governor's control, con- 
sidering themselves as representatives of the sovereign 
people, and being moreover inflated with considerable 
importance and self-sufficiency, which they had acquired 
at those notable schools of wisdom and morality, the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 161 

popular meetings — were not so easily satisfied. Mus- 
tering up fresh spirit, when they found there was some 
chance of escaping from their present jeopardy, without 
the disagreeable alternative of fighting, they requested a 
copy of the summons to surrender that they might show 
it to a general meeting of the people. 

So insolent and mutinous a request would have been 
enough to have aroused the gorge of the tranquil Van 
Twiller himself — what then must have been its effects 
upon the great Stuyvesant, who was not only a Dutch- 
man, a governor, and a valiant wooden-legged soldier 
to boot, but withal a man of the most stomachful and 
gunpowder disposition. He burst forth into a blaze of 1 
noble indignation, to which the famous rage of Achilles 
was a mere pouting fit — swore not a mother's son of 
them should see a syllable of it — that they deserved, 
every one of them, to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, 
for traitorously daring to question the infallibility of 
government ; that as to their advice and concurrence, 
he did not care a whiff of tobacco for either ; that he 
had long been harassed and thwarted by their cowardly 
councils ; but that they might thenceforth go home, and 
go to bed like old women, for he was determined to de- 
fend the colony himself, without the assistance of them or 
their adherents ! So saying he tucked his sword under 
his arm, cocked his hat upon his head, and girding up 
his loins, stumped indignantly out of the council-cham- 
ber, every body making room for him as he passed. 

No sooner had he gone than the busy burgomasters 
called a public meeting in front of the Stadt-house, where 
they appointed as chairman one Dofue Roerback, a 
mighty gingerbread-baker in the land, and formerly of 
the cabinet of William the Testy. He was looked up 
to with great reverence by the populace, who consider- 
ed him a man of dark knowledge, seeing he was the first 
that imprinted new-year cakes with the mysterious hie- 
roglyphics of the cock and breeches, and such like ma- 
gical devices. 

This great burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of 
ill will against the valiant Stuyvesant, in consequence, 
o 2 



162 BEAUTIES OF 

of having been ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet 
at the time of his taking the reins of government, addres- 
sed the greasy multitude in what is called a patriotic 
speech ; in which he informed them of the courteous 
summons to surrender — of the governor's refusal to com- 
ply therewith — of his denying the public a sight of the 
summons, which, he had no doubt, contained conditions 
highly to the honour and advantage of the province. 

He then proceeded to speak of his excellency in high 
sounding terms, suitable to the dignity and grandeur of 
his station, comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and those 
other great men of yore, who are generally quoted by 
popular orators on similar occasions. Assuring the peo- 
ple that the history of the world did not contain a de- 
spotic outrage to equal the present for atrocity, cruel- 
ty, tyranny, and blood-thirstiness ; that it would be 
recorded in letters of fire on the blood-stained tablet of 
history ! that ages would roll back with sudden horror, 
when they came to view it ! That the womb of time — 
(by the way your orators and writers take strange liber- 
ties with the womb of time, though some would fain 
have us believe that time is an old gentleman) — that the 
womb of time, pregnant as it was with direful horrors, 
would never produce a parallel enormity ! — with a va- 
riety of other heart-rending, soul-stirring tropes and 
figures, which I cannot enumerate. Neither, indeed 
need I, for they were exactly the same that are used in 
all popular harangues and patriotic orations at the pre- 
sent day, and may be classed in rhetoric under the ge- 
neral title of Rigmarole. 

The speech of this inspired burgomaster being fi- 
nished, the meeting fell into a kind of popular fermenta- 
tion, which produced not only a string of right wise re- 
solutions, but likewise a most resolute memorial, ad- 
dressed to the governor, remonstrating at his conduct ; 
which was no sooner handed to him, than he handed it 
into the fire ; and thus deprived posterity of an invalu- 
able document, that might have served as a precedent to 
the enlightened cobblers and tailors of the present day j 
in their sage intermeddlings with politics. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 163 



THE WIDOW AND HER SON. 

During my residence in the country, I used frequently 
to attend at the old village church. Its shadowy aisles, 
its mouldering monuments, its dark oaken pannelling, 
all reverend with the gloom of departed years, seemed 
to fit it for the haunt of solemn meditation. A Sun- 
day, too, in the country, is so holy in its repose ; such 
a pensive quiet reigns over the face of nature, that 
every restless passion is charmed down, and we feel 
all the natural religion of the soul gently springing up 
within us. 

" Sweet day, so pure , so calm, so bright, ' 
The bridal of the earth and sky." 

I do not pretend to be what is called a devout man ; but 
there are feelings that visit me in a country church, amid 
the beautiful serenity of nature, which I experience no 
where else ; and if not a more religious, I think I am a 
better man on Sunday, than on any other day of the 
seven. 

But in this church I felt myself continually thrown 
back upon the world by the frigidity and pomp of the 
poor worms around me. The only being that seemed 
thoroughly to feel the humble and prostrate piety of a 
true Christian, was a poor decrepid old woman, bending 
under the weight of years and infirmities. She bore 
the traces of something better than abject poverty. 
The lingerings of decent pride were visible in her ap- 
pearance. Her dress, though humble in the extreme, 
was scrupulously clean. Some trivial respect, too, had 
been awarded her, for she did not take her seat among 
the village poor, but sat alone on the steps of the altar. 
She seemed to have survived all love, all friendship, all 
society ; and to have nothing left her but the hopes of 
heaven. When I saw her feebly rising and bending her 
aged form in prayer — habitually conning her prayer 
book, which her palsied hand and failing eyes would 
not permit her to read, but which she evidently knew 
by heart — I felt persuaded that the faultering voice of 



164 BEAUTIES OF 

that poor woman arose to heaven far before the re- 
sponses of the clerk, the swell of the organ, or the 
chanting of the choir. 

I am fond of loitering about country churches, and 
this was so delightfully situated, that it frequently at- 
tracted me. It stood on a knoll, round which a small 
stream made, a beautiful bend, and then wound its way 
through a long reach of soft meadow scenery. The 
church was surrounded by yew trees which seemed 
almost coeval with itself. Its tall gothic spire shot up 
lightly from among them, with rooks and crows gene- 
rally wheeling about it. I was seated there one still 
sunny morning watching two labourers who were dig- 
ging a grave. They had chosen one of the most remote 
and neglected corners of the church-yard ; where, from 
the number of nameless graves around, it would appear 
that the indigent and friendless were huddled into the 
earth. I was told that the new made grave was for the 
only son of a poor widow. While I was meditating on 
the distinctions of worldly rank, which extend thus 
down into the very dust, the toll of the bell announced 
the approach of the funeral. They were the obsequies 
of poverty, with which pride had nothing to do. A 
coffin of the plainest materials, without pall or other 
covering, was borne by some of the villagers. The 
sexton walked before with an air of cold indifference. 
There were no mock mourners in the trappings of af- 
fected woe ; but there was one real mourner who feebly 
tottered after the corpse. It was the aged mother of 
the deceased — the poor old woman whom I had seen 
seated on the steps of the altar. She was supported 
by a humble friend, who was endeavouring to comfort 
her. A few of the neighbouring poor had joined the 
train, and some children of the village were running 
hand in hand, now shouting with unthinking mirth, and 
now pausing to gaze with childish curiosity, on the 
grief of the mourner. 

As the funeral train approached the grave, the par- 
son issued from the church porch, arrayed in the sur- 
plice, with prayer-book in hand, and attended by the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 165 

clerk. The service, however, was a mere act of cha- 
rity. The deceased had been destitute, and the sur- 
vivor was pennyless. It was shuffled through, there- 
fore, in form, but coldly and unfeelingly. The well-fed 
priest moved but a few steps from the church door; his 
voice could scarcely be heard at the grave ; and never 
did I hear the funeral service, that sublime and touching 
ceremony, turned into such a frigid mummery of words. 

I approached the grave. The coffin was placed on 
the ground. On it were inscribed the name and age of 
the deceased — " George Sommers, aged 26 years." The 
poor mother had been assisted to kneel down at the 
head of it. Her withered hands were clasped, as if in 
prayer, but I could perceive, by a feeble rocking of the 
body, and a convulsive motion of the lips, that she was 
gazing on the last relics of her son, with the yearnings 
of a mother's heart. 

Preparations were made to deposit the coffin into the 
earth. There was that bustling stir which breaks so 
harshly on the feelings of grief and affection ; directions 
given in the cold tones of business : the striking of 
spades into sand and gravel; which, at the grave of 
those we love, is, of all sounds, the most withering. 
The bustle around seemed to awaken the mother from 
a wretched reverie. She raised her glazed eyes, and 
looked about with a faint wildness. As the men ap- 
proached with cords to lower the coffin into the grave, 
she wrung her hands and broke into an agony of grief. 
The poor woman who attended her took her by the 
arm, endeavouring to raise her from the earth, and t c 
whisper something like consolation — " Nay now, nay, 
now — don't take it so sorely to heart." She could only 
shake her head and wring her hands, as one not to be 
comforted. 

As they lowered the body into the earth, the creaking 
of the cords seemed to agonise her ; but, when, on some 
accidental obstruction, there was a justling of the cof- 
fin, all the tenderness of the mother burst forth ; as if 
any harm could come to him who was far beyond the 
Teach of worldly suffering. 



166 BEAUTIES OF 

I could see no more — my heart swelled into my throat 
— my eyes filled with tears — I felt as if I were acting a 
barbarous part in standing by and gazing idly on this 
scene of maternal anguish. I wandered to another part 
of the church yard, where I remained until the funeral 
train had dispersed. 

When I saw the mother slowly and painfully quitting 
the grave, leaving behind her the remains of all that 
was dear to her on earth, and returning to silence and 
destitution, my heart ached for her. What, thought I, 
are the distresses of the rich ! they have friends to 
soothe — pleasures to beguile — a world to divert and 
dissipate their griefs. What are the sorrows of the 
young ! Their growing minds soon close above the 
wound — their elastic spirits soon rise above the pressure 
— their green and subtile affections soon twine round 
new objects. But the sorrows of the poor, who have 
no outward appliances to soothe — the sorrows of the 
aged, with whom life at best is but a wintry day, and 
who can look for no aftergrowth of joy — the sorrows 
of a widow, aged, solitary, destitute, mourning over 
an only son, the last solace of her years; these are 
indeed sorrows which make us feel the impotency of 
consolation. 

It was some time before I left the church yard. On 
my way homeward I met with the woman who had 
acted as comforter : she was just returning from accom- 
panying the mother to her lonely habitation, and I drew 
from her some particulars connected with the affecting 
scene I had witnessed. 

The parents of the deceased had resided in the village 
from childhood. They had inhabited one of the neatest 
cottages, and by various rural occupations, and the as- 
sistance of a small garden, had supported themselves 
creditably and comfortably, and led a happy and a 
blameless life. They had only one son, who had 
growm up to be the staff and pride of their age — " Oh, 
Sir!" said the good woman, "he was such a comely 
lad, so sweet-tempered, so kind to every one around him, 
so dutiful to his parents ! It did one's heart good, to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 167 

see him of a Sunday, dressed out in his best, so tall, so 
straight, so cheery, supporting his old mother to church 
— for she was always fonder of leaning on George's arm, 
than on her good man's ; and, poor soul, she might well 
be proud of him, for a finer lad there was not in the 
country round." 

Unfortunately the son was tempted, during a year of 
scarcity and agricultural hardship, to enter into the ser- 
vice of one of the small craft that plied on a neighbour- 
ing river. He had not been long in this employ when 
he was entrapped by a press-gang, and carried off to 
sea. His parents received tidings of his seizure, but 
beyond that they could learn nothing. It was the loss 
of their main prop. The father, who was already in- 
firm, grew heartless and melancholy, and sunk into his 
grave. The widow, left lonely, in her age and feeble- 
ness, could no longer support herself, and came upon 
the parish. Still there was a kind of feeling towards 
her throughout the village, and a certain respect as be- 
ing one of the oldest inhabitants. As no one applied 
for the cottage, in which she had passed so many happy 
days, she was permitted to remain in it, where she lived 
solitary and almost helpless. The few wants of nature 
were chiefly supplied from the scanty productions of her 
little garden, which the neighbours would now and then 
cultivate for her. It was but a few days before the 
time at which these circumstances were told me, that 
she was gathering some vegetables for a repast, when 
she heard the cottage door which faced the garden 
suddenly open. A stranger came out, and seemed to 
be looking eagerly and wildly around. He was dressed 
in seaman's clothes, was emaciated and ghastly pale, 
and bore the air of one broken by sickness and hard- 
ships. He saw her, and hastened towards her, but his 
steps were faint and faultering ; he sank on his knees 
before her, and sobbed like a child. The poor woman 
gazed upon him with a vacant and wandering eye — 
" Oh my dear, dear mother ! don't you know your son ? 
your poor boy George ?" It was indeed the wreck of 
her once noble lad ; who, shattered by his wounds, by 



168 BEAUTIES OF 

sickness and foreign imprisonment, had, at length, 
dragged his wasted limbs homeward, to repose among 
the scenes of his childhood. 

I will not attempt to detail the particulars of such a 
meeting, where joy and sorrow were so completely 
blended : still he was alive ! he was come home ! he 
might yet live to comfort and cherish her old age ! 
Nature, however, was exhausted in him ; and if any 
thing had been wanting to finish the work of fate, the 
desolation of his native cottage would have been suffi- 
cient. He stretched himself on the pallet on which his 
widowed mother had passed many a sleepless night, and 
never rose from it again. 

The villagers when they heard that George Sommers 
had returned, crowded to see him, offering every com- 
fort and assistance that their humble means afforded. He 
was too weak, however, to talk — he could only look his 
thanks. His mother was his constant attendant ; and 
he seemed unwilling to be helped by any other hand. 

There is something in sickness, that breaks down 
the pride of manhood ; that softens the heart, and brings 
it back to the feelings of infancy. Who that has 
languished, even in advanced life, in sickness and de- 
spondency ; who that has pined on a weary bed in the 
neglect and loneliness of a foreign land ; but has thought 
on the mother " that looked on his childhood," that 
smoothed his pillow and administered to his helpless- 
ness. Oh ! there is an enduring tenderness in the 
love of a mother to a son that transcends all other af- 
fections of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by 
selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened by 
worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will 
sacrifice every comfort to his convenience ; she will 
surrender every pleasure to his enjoyment; she will 
glory in his fame, and exult in his prosperity : — and 
if misfortune overtake him, he will be the dearer to her 
from his misfortunes ; and if disgrace settle upon his 
name, she will still love and cherish him in spite of his 
disgrace ; and if all the world beside cast him off, she 
will be all the world to him. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 169 

Poor George Sommers had known what it was to be 
In sickness, and none to soothe — lonely and in prison, 
and none to visit him. He could not endure his mother 
from his sight ; if she moved away, his eye would fol- 
low her. She would sit for hours by his bed, watching 
him as he slept. Sometimes he would start from a 
feverish dream, and look anxiously up until he saw 
her bending over him ; when he would take her hand, 
lay it on his bosom, and fall asleep with the tranquillity 
of a child. In this way he died. 

My first impulse on hearing this humble tale of 
affliction, was to visit the cottage of the mourner, and 
administer pecuniary assistance, and, if possible, com- 
fort. I found, however, on inquiry, that the good 
feelings of the villagers had prompted them to do every 
thing that the case admitted ; and as the poor know 
best how to console each other's sorrows, I did not 
venture to intrude. 

The next Sunday I was at the village church ; when, 
to my surprise, I saw the poor old woman tottering 
down the aisle to her accustomed seat on the steps of the 
altar. 

She had made an effort to put on something like 
mourning for her son, and nothing could be more touch- 
ing than this struggle between pious affection and utter 
poverty : a black ribband or so — a faded black handker- 
chief, and one or two more such humble attempts to 
express by outward signs that grief that passes show. 
When I looked round upon the storied monuments ; the 
stately hatchments ; the cold marble pomp, with which 
grandeur mourned magnificently over departed pride, 
and turned to this poor widow, bowed down by age and 
sorrow at the altar of her God, and offering up the 
prayers and praises of a pious, though a broken heart, 
I felt that this living monument of real grief was worth 
them all. 

I related her story to some of the wealthy members 
of the congregation, and they were moved by it. They 
exerted themselves to render her situation more com- 
fortable, and to lighten her afflictions. It was, how- 
p 



170 BEAUTIES OF 

ever, but smoothing a few steps to the grave. In the 
course of a Sunday or two after, she was missed from 
her usual seat at the church, and before I left the neigh- 
bourhood I heard, with a feeling of satisfaction, that 
she had quietly breathed her last, and had gone to re- 
join those she loved, in that world where sorrow is never 
known, and friends are never parted. 



STORM AT SEA. 

The storm increased with the night. The sea was 
lashed into tremendous confusion. There was a fear- 
ful, sullen sound of rushing waves, and broken surges. 
Deep called unto deep. At times the black volume of 
clouds over head seemed rent asunder by flashes of 
lightning that quivered along the foaming billows, and 
made the succeeding darkness doubly terrible. The 
thunders bellowed over the wild waste of waters, and 
were echoed and prolonged by the mountain waves. 
As I saw the ship staggering and plunging among these 
roaring caverns, it seemed miraculous that she regained 
her balance, or preserved her buoyancy. Her yards 
would dip into the water ; her bow was almost buried 
beneath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge 
appeared ready to ovenjdrelm her, and nothing but a 
dexterous movement of tHfe helm preserved her from 
the shock. 

. When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still 
followed me. The whistling of the wind through the 
rigging sounded like funeral wailings. The creaking 
of the masts, the straining and groaning of bulk heads, 
as the ship laboured in the weltering sea, were fright- 
ful. As I heard the waves rushing along the side of 
the ship, and roaring in my very ear, it seemed as if 
Death were raging round this floating prison, seeking 
for his prey ; the mere starting of a nail, the yawning 
of a seam might give him entrance. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 171 



JOHN BULL. 

There is no species of humour in which the English 
more excel, than that which consists in caricaturing and 
giving ludicrous appellations, or nicknames. In this 
way they have whimsically designated, not merely indi- 
viduals, but nations ; and in their fondness for pushing 
a joke, they have not spared even themselves. One 
would think that, in personifying itself, a nation would 
be apt to picture something grand, heroic, and im- 
posing ; but it is characteristic of the peculiar humour 
of the English, and of their love for what is blunt, 
comic and familiar, that they have embodied their na- 
tional oddities in the figure of a sturdy corpulent old 
fellow, with a three-cornered hat, red waistcoat, leather 
breeches, and stout oaken cudgel. Thus they have 
taken a singular delight in exhibiting their most pri- 
vate foibles in a laughable point of view ; and have been 
so successful in their delineations, that there is scarcely 
a being in actual existence more absolutely present to 
the public mind than that eccentric personage, John 
Bull. 

Perhaps the continual contemplation of the character 
thus drawn of them, has contributed to fix it upon the 
nation ; and thus to give reality to what at first may 
have been painted in a great measure from imagination. 
Men are apt to acquire peculiarities that are continually 
ascribed to them. The common orders of English 
seem wonderfully captivated with the beau ideal which 
they have formed of John Bull, and endeavour to act 
up to the broad caricature that is perpetually before 
their eyes. Urduckily, they sometimes make their 
boasted Bull-ism an apology for their prejudice or 
grossness ; and this I have especially noticed among 
those truly home-bred and genuine sons of the soil who 
have never migrated beyond the sound of Bow-bells. 
If one of these should be a little uncouth in speech, 
and apt to utter impertinent truths, he confesses that 
he is a real John Bull, and always speaks his mind. If 



172 BEAUTIES OF 

he now and then flies into an unreasonable burst of 
passion about trifles; he observes, that John Bull is a 
choleric old blade, but then his passion is over in a 
moment, and he bears no malice. If he betrays a 
coarseness of taste, and an insensibility to foreign refine- 
ments, he thanks heaven for his ignorance — he is a plain 
John Bull, and has no relish for frippery and nicknacks, 
His very proneness to be gulled by strangers, and to 
pay extravagantly for absurdities, is excused under the 
plea of munificence — for John is always more generous 
than wise. 

Thus, under the name of John Bull, he will con- 
trive to argue every fault into a merit, and will frankly 
convict himself of being the honestest fellow in exis- 
tence. 

However little, therefore, the character may have 
suited in the first instances, it has gradually adapted 
itself to the nation, or rather they have adapted them- 
selves to each other; and a stranger who wishes to 
study English peculiarities, may gather much valuable 
information from the innumerable portraits of John 
Bull, as exhibited in the windows of the caricature 
shops. Still, however, he is one of those fertile hu- 
mourists, that are continually throwing out new por- 
traits, and presenting different aspects from different 
points of view; and, often as he has been described, I 
cannot resist the temptation to give a slight sketch of 
him, such as he has met my eye. 

John Bull, to all appearance, is a plain, downright, 
matter-of-fact fellow, with much less of poetry about 
him than rich prose. There is little of romance in his 
nature, but a vast deal of strong natural feeling. He 
excels in humour more than in wit ; is jolly rather than 
gay ; melancholy rather than morose ; can easily be 
moved to a sudden tear, or surprised to a broad laugh ; 
but he loathes sentiment, and has no turn for light 
pleasantry. He is a boon companion, if you allow him 
to have his humour, and to talk about himself; and he 
will stand by a friend in a quarrel, with life and purse, 
however soundly he may be cudgelled. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 173 

In this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a pro- 
pensity to be somewhat too ready. He is a busy- 
minded personage, who thinks not merely for himself 
and family, but for all the country round, and is most 
generously disposed to be every body's champion. He 
is continually volunteering his services to settle his 
neighbour's affairs, and takes it in great dudgeon if they 
engage in any matter of consequence without asking 
his advice ; though he seldom engages in any friendly 
office of the kind without finishing by getting into a 
squabble with all parties, and then railing bitterly at 
their ingratitude. He unluckily took lessons in his 
youth in the noble science of defence, and having ac- 
complished himself in the use of his limbs and his wea- 
pons, and become a perfect master at boxing and cudgel 
play, he has had a troublesome life of it ever since. 
He cannot hear of a quarrel between the most distant 
of his neighbours, but he begins incontinently to fumble 
with the head of his cudgel, and to consider whether 
his interest or honour does not require that he should 
meddle in the broil. Indeed he has extended his rela- 
tions of pride and policy so completely over the whole 
country, that no event can take place without infringing 
some of his finely-spun rights and dignities. Couched 
in his little domain, with these filaments stretching 
forth in every direction, he is like some choloric, bottle- 
bellied old spider, who has woven his web over a whole 
chamber so that a fly cannot buzz, nor a breeze blow, 
without startling his repose, and causing him to sally 
forth wrathfully from his den. 

Though really a good-hearted, good-tempered old 
fellow at bottom, yet he is singularly fond of being in 
the midst of contention. It is one of his peculiarities, 
however, that he only relishes the beginning of an af- 
fray; he always goes into a fight with alacrity, but 
comes out of it grumbling even when victorious ; and 
though no one fights with more obstinacy to carry a 
contested point, yet, when the battle is over, and he 
comes to the reconciliation, he is so much taken up 
with the mere shaking of hands, that he is apt to let 
p2 



174 BEAUTIES OF 

his antagonist pocket all that they have been quarrelling' 
about. It is not, therefore, fighting that he ought to 
be so much on his guard against, as making friends. 
It is difficult to cudgel him out of a farthing ; but put 
him in a good humour, and you may bargain him out 
of all the money in his pocket. He is like one of his 
own ships, which will weather the roughest storm un- 
injured, but roll its masts overboard in the succeeding 
calm. 

He is a little fond of playing the magnifico abroad ; 
of pulling out a long purse ; flinging his money bravely 
about at boxing matches, horse races, and cockfights, 
and carrying a high head among "gentlemen of the 
fancy ;" but immediately after one of these fits of extra- 
vagance, he will be taken with violent qualms of eco- 
nomy ; stop short at the most trivial expenditure ; talk 
desperately of being ruined, and brought upon the 
parish ; and in such moods, he will not pay the smal- 
lest tradesman's bill without violent altercation. He 
is, in fact, the most punctual and discontented paymas- 
ter in the world ; drawing his coin out of his breeches' 
pocket with infinite reluctance ; paying to the utter- 
most farthing, but accompanying every guinea with a 
growl. 

With all this talk of economy, however, he is a boun- 
tiful provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. His eco- 
nomy is of a whimsical kind, its chief object being to 
devise how he may afford to be extravagant ; for he will 
begrudge himself a beefsteak and a pint of port one 
day, that he may roast an ox whole, broach a hogshead 
of ale, and treat all his neighbours on the next. 

His domestic establishment is enormously expensive : 
not so much from any great outward parade, as from 
the great consumption of solid beef and pudding ; the 
vast number of followers he feeds and clothes ; and 
his singular disposition to pay hugely for small services. 
He is a most kind and indulgent master, and, provided 
his servants humour his peculiarities, flatter his vanity 
a little now and then, and do not peculate grossly on 
him before his face, they may manage him to perfection. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 175 

Every thing that lives on him seems to thrive and grow 
fat. His house servants are well paid, and pampered, 
and have little to do. His horses are sleek and lazy, 
and prance slowly before his state carriage ; and his 
house dogs sleep quietly before his door, and will hardly 
bark at a house-breaker. 

His family mansion is an old castellated manor-house, 
grey with age, and of a most venerable, though weather- 
beaten appearance. It has been built upon no regular 
plan, but is a vast accumulation of parts, erected in 
various tastes and ages. The centre bears evident 
traces of Saxon architecture, and is as solid as ponder- 
ous stone and old English oak can make it. Like all 
the relics of that style, it is full of obscure passages, 
intricate mazes, and dusky chambers ; and though these 
have been partially lighted up in modern days, yet there 
are many places where you must still grope in the dark. 
Additions have been made to the original edifice from 
time to time, and great alterations have taken place ; 
towers and battlements have been erected during the 
wars and tumults ; wings built in times of peace ; and 
out-houses, lodges, and offices, run up according to the 
whim or convenience of different generations : until it 
has become one of the most spacious, rambling tene- 
ments imaginable. An entire wing is taken up with a 
family chapel ; a reverend pile that must once have 
been exceedingly sumptuous, and, indeed, in spite of 
having been altered and simplified at various periods, 
has still a look of solemn religious pomp. Its walls 
within are storied with the monuments of John's ances- 
tors ; and it is snugly fitted up with soft cushions and 
well-lined chairs, where such of his family as are in- 
clined to church services, may doze comfortably in the 
discharge of their duties. 

To keep up this chapel has cost John much money ; 
but he is staunch in his religion, and piqued in his zeal, 
from the circumstance that many dissenting chapels 
have been erected in its vicinity, and several of his 
neighbours, with whom he has had quarrels, are strong 
papists. 



176 BEAUTIES OF 

To do the duties of the chapel he maintains, at a 
large expense, a pious and portly family chaplain. He 
is a most learned and decorous personage, and a truly 
well-bred Christian, who always backs the old gentle- 
man in his opinions, winks discreetly at his little pec- 
cadilloes, rebukes the children when refractory, and is 
of great use in exhorting the tenants to read their bibles, 
say their prayers, and, above all, to pay their rents punc- 
tually, and without grumbling. 

The family apartments are in a very antiquated taste, 
somewhat heavy, and often inconvenient, but full of the 
solemn magnificence of former times ; fitted up with 
rich though faded tapestry, unwieldy furniture, and 
loads of massy gorgeous old plate. The vast fire-places, 
ample kitchens, extensive cellars, and sumptuous ban- 
quetting halls — all speak of the roaring hospitality of 
days of yore, of which the modern festivity at the ma- 
nor-house is but a shadow. There are, however, com- 
plete suites of rooms apparently deserted and time 
worn ; and towers and turrets that are tottering to 
decay ; so that in high winds there is a danger of their 
tumbling about the ears of the household. 

John has frequently been advised to have the old 
edifice thoroughly overhauled ; and to have some ' of 
the useless parts pulled down, and the others strength- 
ened with their materials ; but the old gentleman al- 
ways grows testy on this subject. He swears the house 
is an excellent house — that it is tight and weather proof, 
and not to be shaken by tempests — that it has stood 
for several hundred years, and, therefore, is not likely 
to tumble down now — that as to its being inconvenient, 
his family is accustomed to the inconveniences, and 
would not be comfortable without them — that as to its 
unwieldy size and irregular construction, these result 
from its being the growth of centuries, and being im- 
proved by the wisdom of every generation — that an old 
family like his, requires a large house to dwell in ; new 
upstart families may live in modern cottages and snug 
boxes, but an old English family should inhabit an old 
English manor-house. If you point out any part of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 177 

the building as superfluous, he insists that it is ma- 
terial to the strength or decoration of the rest, and the 
harmony of the whole ; and swears that the parts are 
so built into each other, that if you pull down one, you 
run the risk of having the whole about your ears. 

The secret of the matter is, that John has a great 
disposition to protect and patronize. He thinks it 
indispensible to the dignity of an ancient and honour- 
able family to be bounteous in its appointments, and to 
be eaten up by dependents ; and so, partly from pride > 
and partly from kind-heartedness, he makes it a rule 
always to give shelter and maintenance to his superan- 
nuated servants. 

The consequence is, that, like many other venerable 
family establishments, his manor is encumbered by old 
retainers whom he cannot turn off, and an old style 
which he cannot lay down. His mansion is like a 
great hospital of invalids, and with all its magnitude, is 
not a whit too large for its inhabitants. Not a nook or 
a corner but is of use in housing some useless person- 
age. Groups of veteran beef-eaters, gouty pensioners, 
and retired heroes of the buttery and the larder, are 
seen lolling about its walls, crawling over its lawns, 
dozing under its trees, or sunning themselves upon the 
benches at its doors. Every office and out-house is 
garisoned by these supernumeraries and their families ; 
for they are amazingly prolific, and when they die off, 
are sure to leave John a legacy of hungry mouths to be 
provided for. A mattock cannot be struck against the 
most mouldering tumble-down tower, but out pops, 
from some cranny or loop-hole, the grey pate of some 
superannuated hanger-on, who has lived at John's ex- 
pense all his life, and makes the most grievous outcry, 
at their pulling down the roof from over the head of a 
worn-out servant of the family. This is an appeal that 
John's honest heart never can withstand ; so that a 
man, who ha faithfully eaten his beef and pudding all 
his life, is sure to be rewarded with a pipe and tankard 
in his old days. 

A great part of his park also, is turned into paddocks, 



178 BEAUTIES OF 

where his broken down chargers are turned loose to 
graze undisturbed for the remainder of their existence 
— a worthy example of grateful recollection, which, if 
some of his neighbours were to imitate, would not be 
to their discredit. Indeed, it is one of his greatest 
pleasures to point out these old steeds to his visitors, 
to dwell on their good qualities, extol their past servi- 
ces, and boast with some little vain-glory, of the peril- 
ous adventures and hardy exploits, through which they 
have carried him. 

He is given, however, to indulge his veneration for 
family usages, and family encumbrances, to a whimsical 
extent. His manor is infested by gangs of gipsies ; 
yet he will not suffer them to be driven off, because 
they have infested the place time out of mind, and been 
regularly poachers upon every generation of the family. 
He will scarcely permit a dry branch to be lopped 
from the great trees that surround the house, lest it 
should molest the rooks, that have bred there for cen- 
turies. Owls have taken possession of the dovecote ; 
but they are hereditary owls, and must not be disturbed. 
Swallows have nearly choked up every chimney with 
their nests ; martins build in every frieze and cornice ; 
crows flutter about the towers and perch on every 
weathercock ; and old grey-headed rats may be seen 
in every quarter of the house, running in and out of 
their holes undauntedly, in broad daylight. In short, 
John has such a reverence for every thing that has 
been long in the family, that he will not hear even of 
abuses being reformed, because they are good old 
family abuses. 

All these whims and habits have concurred woefully 
to drain the old gentleman's purse ; and as he prides 
himself on punctuality in money matters, and wishes to 
maintain his credit in the neighbourhood, they have 
caused him great perplexity in meeting his engagements. 
This, too, has been increased, by the altercations and 
heart-burnings which are continually taking place in his 
family. His children bave been brought up to differ- 
ent callings, and are of different ways of thinking ; and 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 179 

as they have always been allowed to speak their mind 
freely, they do not fail to exercise the privilege most 
clamourously in the present posture of his affairs. Some 
stand up for the honour of the race, and are clear that 
the old establishment should be kept up in all its state, 
whatever may be the cost ; others, who are more pru- 
dent and considerate, entreat the old gentleman to re- 
trench his expenses, and to put his whole system of house- 
keeping on a more moderate footing. He has, indeed, 
at times, seemed inclined to listen to their opinions, 
but their wholesome advice has been completely de« 
feated by the obstreperous conduct of one of his sons. 
This is a noisy rattle-pated fellow, of rather low habits, 
who neglects his business to frequent ale-houses — is 
the orator of village clubs, and a complete oracle among 
the poorest of his father's tenants. No sooner does he 
hear any of his brothers mention reform or retrench- 
ment, than up he jumps, takes the words out of their 
mouths, and roars out for an overturn. When his 
tongue is once going, nothing can stop it. He rants 
about the room ; hectors the old man about his spend- 
thrift practices ; ridicules his tastes and pursuits ; in- 
sists that he shall turn the old servants out of doors ; 
give the broken down horses to the hounds ; send the 
fat chaplain packing, and take a field preacher in his 
place — nay, that the whole family mansion shall be 
levelled with the ground, and a plain one of brick and 
mortar built in its place. He rails at every social en- 
tertainment and family festivity, and skulks away growl- 
ing to the ale-house whenever an equipage drives up to 
the door. Though constantly complaining of the empti- 
ness of his purse, yet he scruples not to spend all his 
pocket-money in these tavern convocations, and even 
runs up scores for the liquor over which he preaches 
about his father's extravagance. 

It may readily be imagined how little such thwarting 
agrees with the old cavalier's fiery temperament. He 
has become so irritable, from repeated crossings, that 
the mere mention of retrenchment or reform is a signal 
for a brawl between him and the tavern oracle. As 



180 BEAUTIES OF 

the latter is too sturdy and refractory for paternal dis- 
cipline, having grown out of all fear of the cudgel, they 
have frequent scenes of wordy warfare, which at times 
run so high, that John is fain to call in the aid of his 
son Tom, an officer who has served abroad, but is at 
present living at home on half-pay. This last is sure 
to stand by the old gentleman, right or wrong : likes 
nothing so much as a racketting roystering life ; and is 
ready, at a wink or a nod, to out sabre and flourish it 
over the orator's head, if he dares to array himself 
against paternal authority. 

These family dissensions, as usual, have got abroad, 
and are rare food for scandal in John's neighbourhood. 
People begin to look wise, and shake their heads, when- 
ever his affairs are mentioned. They all " hope that 
matters are not so bad with him as represented ; but 
when a man's own children begin to rail at his extrava- 
gance, things must be badly managed. They under- 
stand he is mortgaged over head and ears, and is con- 
tinually dabbling with money lenders. He is certainly 
an open-handed old gentleman, but they fear he has lived 
too fast ; indeed, they never knew any good come of 
this fondness for hunting, racing, revelling, and prize- 
fighting. In short, Mr Bull's estate is a very fine one, 
and has been in the family a long while ; but for all 
that, they have knowri many finer estates come to the 
hammer." 

What is worst of all, is the effect which these pecu- 
niary embarassments and domestic feuds have had on 
the poor man himself. Instead of that jolly round cor- 
poration, and smug rosy face, which he used to present, 
he has of late become as shrivelled and shrunk as a frost- 
bitten apple. His scarlet gold-laced waistcoat, which 
bellied out so bravely in those prosperous days when he 
sailed before the wind, now hangs loosely about him 
like a mainsail in a calm. His leather breeches are all 
in folds and wrinkles, and apparently have much ado to 
hold up the boots that yawn on both sides of his once 
sturdy legs. 

Instead of strutting about as formerly, with his three- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 181 

cornered hat on one side ; flourishing his cudgel, and 
bringing it down every moment with a hearty thump 
upon the ground ; looking every one sturdily in the face, 
and trolling out a stave of a catch or a drinking song ; 
he now goes about whistling thoughtfully to himself, 
with his head drooping down, his cudgel tucked under 
his arm, and his hands thrust to the bottom of his 
breeches pockets, which are evidently empty. 

Such is the plight of honest John Bull at present ; 
yet for all this the old fellow's spirit is as tall and as 
gallant as ever. If you drop the least expression of 
sympathy or concern, he takes fire in an instant ; swears 
that he is the richest and stoutest fellow in the country ; 
talks of laying out large sums to adorn his house or to 
buy another estate; and, with a valiant swagger and 
grasping of his cudgel, longs exceedingly to have another 
bout at quarterstafF. 

Though there may be something rather whimsical in 
all this, yet I confess I cannot look upon John's situa- 
tion without strong feelings of interest. With all his 
odd humours and obstinate prejudices, he is a sterling- 
hearted old blade. He may not be so wonderfully fine 
a fellow as he thinks himself, but he is at least twice as 
good as his neighbours represent him. His virtues are 
all his own ; all plain, home-bred, and unaffected. His 
very faults smack of the raciness of his good qualities. 
His extravagance savours of his generosity ; his quarrel- 
someness of his courage ; his credulity of his open faith ; 
his vanity of his pride ; and his bluntness of his sin- 
cerity. They are all the redundancies of a rich and 
liberal character. He is like his own oak ; rough with- 
out, but sound and solid within ; whose bark abounds 
with excrescences in proportion to the growth and 
grandeur of the timber ; and whose branches make a 
fearful groaning and murmuring in the least storm, from 
their very magnitude and luxuriance. There is some- 
thing, too, in the appearance of his old family mansion 
that is extremely poetical and picturesque ; and, as long 
as it can be rendered comfortably habitable, I should 
almost tremble to see it meddled with during the present 
Q 



182 BEAUTIES OF 

conflict of tastes and opinions. Some of his advisers 
are no doubt good architects that might be of service ; 
but many, I fear, are mere levellers, who, when they had 
once got to work with their mattocks on the venerable 
edifice, would never stop until they had brought it to 
the ground, and perhaps buried themselves among the 
ruins. All that I wish is, that John's present troubles 
may teach him more prudence in future. That he may 
cease to distress his mind about other people's affairs ; 
that he may give up the fruitless attempt to promote the 
good of his neighbours, and the peace and happiness of 
the world, by dint of the cudgel ; that he may remain 
quietly at home ; gradually get his house into repair ; 
cultivate his rich estate according to his fancy ; husband 
his income — if he thinks proper ; bring his unruly chil- 
dren into order — if he can; renew the jovial scenes of 
ancient prosperity ; and long enjoy, on his paternal lands, 
a green, an honourable, and a merry old age. 



CONSEQUENCE. 

The doctor now felt all the dignity of a landholder 
rising within him. He had a little of the German pride 
of territory in his composition, and almost looked upon 
himself as owner of a principality. He began to com- 
plain of the fatigue of business ; and was fond of riding 
out "to look at his estate." His little expeditions to 
his lands were attended with a bustle and parade that 
created a sensation throughout the neighbourhood. His 
wall-eyed horse stood stamping, and whisking off the 
flies, for a full hour before the house. Then the doctor's 
saddle-bags would be brought out and adjusted ; then, 
after a little while, his cloak would be rolled up and 
strapped to the saddle; then his umbrella would be 
buckled to the cloak ; while, in the mean time, a group 
of ragged boys, that observant class of beings, would 
gather before the door. At length the doctor would issue 
forth, in a pair of jack-boots that reached above his knees, 




Carwe/jnenee 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 183 

and a cocked hat flapped down in front. As he was a 
short, fat man, he took some time to mount into the 
saddle ; and when there, he took some time to have the 
saddle and stirrups properly adjusted, enjoying the won- 
der and admiration of the urchin crowd. Even after he 
had set off, he would pause in the middle of the street, 
or trot back two or three times to give some parting 
orders, which were answered by the housekeeper from 
the door, or Dolph from the study, or the black cook 
from the cellar, or the chambermaid from the garret 
window; and there were generally some last words 
bawled after him, just as he was toning the corner. 

The whole neighbourhood would be aroused by this 
pomp and circumstance. The cobbler would leave his 
last ; the barber would thrust out his frizzed head, with 
a comb sticking in it ; a knot would collect at the gro- 
cer's door, and the word would be buzzed from one end 
of the street to the other, " The Doctor's riding out to 
his country seat." 



THE COCKLOFT FAMILY. 

The Cockloft family, of which I have made such fre- 
quent mention, is of great antiquity, if there be any 
truth in the genealogical tree which hangs up in my 
cousin's library. They trace their descent from a cele« 
brated Roman Knight, cousin to the progenitor of his 
Majesty of Britain, who left his native country on occa- 
sion of some disgust ; and coming into Wales, became 
a great favourite of Prince Madoc, and accompanied 
that famous argonaut in the voyage which ended in the 
discovery of this continent. — Though a member of the 
family, I have sometimes ventured to doubt the authen- 
ticity of this portion of their annals, to the great vexation 
of cousin Christopher, who is looked up to as the head of 
our house ; and who, though as orthodox as a bishop, 
would sooner give up the whole decalogue than lop off a 
single .limb of the family tree. From time immemorial it 



184 BEAUTIES OF 

has been the rule for the Cocklofts to marry one of theif 
own name ; and as they always breed like rabbits, the 
family has increased and multiplied like that of Adam 
and Eve. In truth, their number is almost incredible ; 
and you can hardly go into any part of the country with- 
out starting a warren of genuine Cocklofts. Every 
person of the least observation or experience must have 
observed, that where this practice of marrying cou- 
sins and second cousins prevails in a family, every 
member, in the course of a few generations, becomes 
queer, humourous, and original ; as much distinguished 
from the common race of mongrels, as if he were of a 
different species. This has happened in our family, 
and particularly in that branch of it of which Christo- 
pher Cockloft, Esq. is the head — Christopher is, in 
fact, the only married man of the name who resides in 
town ; his family is small, having lost most of his chil- 
dren when young, by the excessive care he took to bring 
them up like vegetables. This was one of the first whim- 
whams, and a confounded one it was, as his children 
might have told, had they not fallen victims to his ex- 
periment before they could talk. He had got from some 
quack philosopher or other a notion, that there was a 
complete analogy between children and plants, and that 
they ought to be both reared alike. Accordingly, he 
sprinkled them every morning with water, laid them out 
in the sun, as he did his geraniums ; and if the season 
was remarkably dry, repeated this wise experiment three 
or four times of a morning. The consequence was, the 
poor little souls died one after the other, except Jeremy 
and his two sisters ; who, to be sure, are a trio of as odd 
runty, mummy-looking originals as ever Hogarth fancied 
in his most happy moments. Mrs. Cockloft, the larger 
if not the better half of my cousin, often remonstrated 
against this vegetable theory; and even brought the 
parson of the parish, in which my cousin's country house 
is situated to her aid ; but in vain, Christopher persisted, 
and attributed the failure of his plan to it not having 
been exactly conformed to. As I have mentioned Mrs. 
Cockloft, I may as well say a little more about her while 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 185 

I am in the humour. She is a lady of wonderful nota- 
bility, a warm admirer of shining mahogany, clean 
hearths, and her husband, whom she considers the wisest 
man in the world, beating Will Wizard and the parson 
of our parish — the last of whom is her oracle on all oc- 
casions. She goes constantly to church every Sunday 
and saint's day, and insists upon it, that no man is en- 
titled to ascend a pulpit unless he has been ordained by 
a bishop ; nay, so far does she carry her orthodoxy, that 
all the arguments in the world will never persuade her 
that a Presbyterian or Baptist, or even a Calvinist, has 
any possible chance of going to heaven. Above every 
thing else, however, she abhors Paganism ; can scarcely 
refrain from laying violent hands on a Pantheon when 
she meets with it ; and was very nigh going into hyste- 
rics when my cousin insisted that one of his boys should 
be christened after our laureate, because the parson of 
the parish had told her, that Pindar was the name of a 
Pagan writer, famous for his love of boxing-matches, 
wrestling, and horse-racing. To sum up all her quali- 
fications in the shortest possible way, Mrs Cockloft is, 
in the true sense of the phrase, a good sort of a woman, 
and I often congratulate my cousin on possessing her. 
The rest of the family consists of Jeremy Cockloft, the 
younger, who has already been mentioned, and the two 
Miss Cocklofts, or rather the young ladies, as they have 
been called by the servants time out of mind ; not that 
they are really young, the younger being somewhat on 
the shady side of thirty — but it has ever been the cus- 
tom to call every member of the family young under 
fifty. In the south-east corner of the house, I hold 
quiet possession of an old-fashioned apartment, where 
myself and my elbow-chair are suffered to amuse our- 
selves undisturbed, save at meal times. This apartment 
old Cockloft has facetiously denominated Cousin 
Launce's Paradise; and the good old gentleman has 
two or three favourite jokes about it, which are served 
up as regularly as the standing family dish of beefsteaks 
and onions, which every day maintains its station at the 
q2 



180 BEAUTIES OF 

foot of the table, in defiance of mutton, poultry, or even 
venison itself. 

Though the family is apparently small, yet, like most 
old establishments of the kind, it does not want for 
honorary members. It is the city rendezvous of the 
Cocklofts ; and we are continually enlivened by the 
company of half a score of uncles, aunts, and cousins in 
the fortieth remove, from all parts of the country, who 
profess a wonderful regard for Cousin Christopher ; 
and overwhelm every member of his household, down 
to the cook in the kitchen, with their attentions. We 
have for three weeks past been greeted with the com- 
pany of two worthy old spinsters, who came down from 
the country to settle a law-suit. They have done little 
else but retail stories of their village neighbours, knit 
stockings, and take snufT, all the time they have been 
here : the whole family are bewildered with church-yard 
tales of sheeted ghosts, white horses without heads, and 
with large goggle eyes in their buttocks ; and not one 
of the old servants dare budge an inch after dark with- 
out a numerous company at his heels. My cousin's 
visitors, however, always return his hospitality with due 
gratitude, and now and then remind him of their frater- 
nal regard, by a present of a pot of apple sweetmeats, or 
a barrel of sour cider at Christmas. Jeremy displays 
himself to great advantage among his country relations, 
who all think him a prodigy, and often stand astounded, 
in " gaping wonderment," at his natural philosophy. He 
lately frightened a simple old uncle almost out of his 
wits, by giving it as his opinion, that the earth would one 
day be scorched to ashes by the eccentric gambols of the 
famous comet, so much talked of ; and positively as- 
serted, that this world revolved round the sun, and that 
the moon was certainly inhabited. 

The family mansion bears equal marks of antiquity 
with its inhabitants. As the Cocklofts are remarkable 
for their attachment to every thing that has remained 
long in the family, they are bigoted towards their old 
edifice, and, I dare say, would sooner have it crumble 
about their ears than abandon it. The consequence is, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 187 

it has been so patched up and repaired, that it has be- 
come as full of whims and oddities as its tenants ; re- 
quires to be nursed and humoured like a gouty old cod- 
ger of an alderman ; and reminds one of the famous ship 
in which a certain admiral circumnavigated the globe, 
which was so patched and timbered, in order to preserve 
so great a curiosity, that at length not a particle of the 
original remained. Whenever the wind blows, the old 
mansion makes a most perilous groaning; and every 
storm is sure to make a day's work for the carpenter, 
who attends upon it as regularly as the family physician. 
This predilection for every thing that has been long in 
the family, shows itself in every particular. The domes- 
tics are all grown grey in the service of our house. We 
have a little, old, crusty, grey-headed negro, who has 
lived through two or three generations of the Cocklofts, 
and, of course, has become a personage of no little im- 
portance in the household. He calls all the family by 
their christian names ; tells long stories about how he 
dandled them on his knee when they were children ; and 
is a complete Cockloft chronicle for the last seventy 
years. The family carriage was made in the last French 
war, and the old horses were most indubitably foaled in 
Noah's ark — resembling marvellously, in gravity of de- 
meanour, those sober animals which may be seen any day 
of the year in the streets of Philadelphia, walking their 
snail's pace, a dozen in a row, and harmoniously jing- 
ling their bells. Whim- whams are the inheritance of 
the Cocklofts, and every member of the household is a 
humourist sui generis, from the master down to the foot- 
man. The very cats and dogs are humourists ; and we 
have a little runty scoundrel of a cur, who, whenever the 
church bells ring, will run to the street door, turn up his 
nose in the wind, and howl most piteously. Jeremy in- 
sists that this is owing to a peculiar delicacy in the or- 
ganization of his ears, and supports his positions by many 
learned arguments which nobody can understand ; but 
I am of opinion, that it is a mere Cockloft whim-wham, 
which the little cur indulges, being descended from a 
race of dogs which has flourished in the family ever since 



188 BEAUTIES OF 

the time of my grandfather. A propensity to save every 
thing that bears the stamp of family antiquity has 
accumulated an abundance of trumpery and rubbish 
with which the house is encumbered, from the cellar to 
the garret ; and every room, and closet, and corner, is 
crammed with three legged chairs, clocks without hands, 
swords without scabbards, cocked hats, broken candle- 
sticks, and looking glasses with frames carved into fan- 
tastic shapes, of feathered sheep, of woolly birds, and 
other animals that have no name except in books of 
heraldry. The ponderous mahogany chairs in the 
parlour are of such unwieldy proportions, that it is quite 
a serious undertaking to gallant one of them across the 
room ; and sometimes make a most equivocal noise 
when you sit down in a hurry, the mantle-piece is 
decorated with little lacquered earthen shepherdesses — 
some of which are without toes, and others without 
noses ; and the fire-place is garnished out with Dutch 
tiles, exhibiting a great variety of Scripture pieces, which 
my good old soul of a cousin takes infinite delight in 
explaining. Poor Jeremy hates them as he does 
poison ; for while a younker, he was obliged by his 
mother to learn the history of a tile every Sunday morn- 
ing before she would permit him to join his play-mates : 
this was a terrible affair for Jeremy, who, by the time 
he had learned the last had forgotten the first, and was 
obliged to begin again. He assured me the other day, 
with a round college oath, that if the old house stood 
out till he inherited it, he would have these tiles taken 
out, and ground into powder, for the perfect hatred he 
bore them. 

My cousin Christopher enjoys unlimited authority in 
the mansion of his forefathers ; he is truly what may 
be termed a hearty old blade — has a florid, sunshiny 
countenance, and, if you will only praise his wine, and 
laugh at his long stories, himself and his house are 
heartily at your service. The first condition is indeed 
easily complied with, for, to tell the truth, his wine is 
excellent ; but his stories, being none of the best, and 
often repeated, are apt to create a disposition to yawn 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 189 

being, in addition to their other qualities, most unrea- 
sonably long. His prolixity is the more afflicting to 
me, since I have all his stories by heart ; and when he 
enters upon one, it reminds me of Newark causeway, 
where the traveller sees the end at the distance of 
several miles. To the great misfortune of all his ac- 
quaintance, cousin Cockloft is blessed with a most pro- 
voking retentive memory, and can give day and date, 
and name, and age, and circumstance, with most unfeel- 
ing precision. These, however, are but trivial foibles, 
forgotten, or remembered only with a kind of tender 
respectful pity, by those who knew with what a rich 
redundant harvest of kindness and generosity his heart 
is stored. It would delight you to see with what social 
gladness he welcomes a visitor into his house ; and the 
poorest man that enters his door never leaves it without 
a cordial invitation to sit down and drink a glass of 
wine. By the honest farmers round his country seat, 
he is looked up to with love and reverence ; they never 
pass him by without his enquiring after the welfare of 
their families, and receiving a cordial shake of his 
liberal hand. There are but two classes of people who 
are thrown out of the reach of his hospitality — and 
these are Frenchmen and Democrats. The old gentle- 
man considers it treason against the majesty of good 
breeding to speak to any visitor with his hat on ; but 
the moment a Democrat enters his door, he forthwith 
bids his man Pompey bring his hat, puts it on his head, 
and salutes him with an appalling " Well, sir, what do 
you want with me ?" 

He has a profound contempt for Frenchmen, and 
firmly believes that they eat nothing but frogs and soup- 
maigre in their own country. This unlucky prejudice 
is partly owing to my great aunt Pamelia having been, 
many years ago, run away with by a French Count, 
who turned out to be the son of a generation of bar- 
bers ; and partly to a little vivid spark of toryism, which 
burns in a secret corner of his heart. He was a loyal 
subject of the crown; has hardly yet recovered the 
shock of independence ; and, though he does not care 



190 BEAUTIES OF 

to own it, always does honour to his majesty's birth day, 
by inviting a few cavaliers, like himself, to dinner ; 
and gracing his table with more than ordinary festivity. 
If by chance the revolution is mentioned before him, 
my cousin shakes his head ; and you may see, if you 
take good note, a lurking smile of contempt in the 
corner of his eye, which marks a decided disapproba- 
tion of the sound. He once, in the fulness of his 
heart, observed to me that green pease were a month 
later than they were under the old government. But 
the most eccentric manifestation of loyalty he ever gave, 
was making a voyage to Halifax, for no other reason 
under heaven but to hear his majesty prayed for in 
church, as he used to be here formerly. This he never 
could be brought fairly to acknowledge, but it is a 
certain fact I assure you. It is not a little singular 
that a person, so much given to long story-telling as 
my cousin, should take a liking to another of the same 
character; but so it is with the old gentleman — his 
prime favourite and companion is Will Wizard, who is 
almost a member of the family, and will sit before the 
fire, with his feet on the massy handirons, and smoak 
his cigar, and screw his phiz, and spin away tremendous 
long stories of his travels, for a whole evening, to the 
great delight of the old gentleman and lady, and espe- 
cially of the young ladies, who, like Desdemona, do 
" seriously incline," and listen to him with innumerable 
" O dears," " is it possibles," " good graciouses," and 
look upon him as a second Sinbad the sailor. 

The Miss Cocklofts, whose pardon I crave for not 
having particularly introduced them before, are a pair 
of delectable damsels ; who, having purloined and 
locked up the family-bible, pass for just what age they 
please to plead guilty to. Barbara, the eldest, has long 
since resigned the character of a belle, and adopted that 
staid, sober, demure, snuff-taking air, becoming her 
years and discretion. She is a good-natured soul, whom 
I never saw in a passion but once ; and that was occa- 
sioned by seeing an old favourite beau of hers kiss the 
hand of a pretty blooming girl ; and, in truth, she only 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 191 

got angry because, as she very properly said, it would 
spoil the child. Her sister Margery, or Maggie, as she 
is familiarly termed, seemed disposed to maintain her 
post as a belle, until a few months since ; when acci- 
dentally hearing a gentleman observe that she broke 
very fast, she suddenly left off going to the assembly, 
took a cat into high favour, and began to rail at the 
forward pertness of young misses. From that moment 
I set her down for an old maid ; and so she is, " by 
the hand of my body." The young ladies are still 
visited by some half dozen of veteran beaux, who grew 
and flourished in the haut ton, when the Miss Cocklofts 
were quite children, but have been brushed rather 
rudely by the hand of time, who, to say the truth, can 
do almost any thing but make people young. They 
are, notwithstanding, still warm candidates for female 
favour; look venerably tender, and repeat over and 
over the same honeyed speeches and sugared sentiments 
to the little belles that they poured so profusely into 
the ears of their mothers. I beg leave here to give 
notice, that by this sketch I mean no reflection on old 
bachelors ; on the contrary, I hold, that next to a fine 
lady, the ne plus ultra, an old bachelor is the most 
charming being upon earth ; inasmuch as by living in 
"single blessedness," he of course does just as he 
pleases ; and if he has any genius, must acquire a plen- 
tiful stock of whims, and oddities, and whalebone ha- 
bits : without which I esteem a man to be mere beef 
without mustard, good for nothing at all, but to run on 
errands for ladies, take boxes at the theatre, and act the 
part of a screen at tea-parties, or a walking-stick in the 
streets. I merely speak of those old boys who infest 
public walks, pounce upon the ladies from every corner 
of the street, and worry and frisk and amble, and caper 
before, behind, and round about the fashionable belles, 
like old poneys in a pasture, striving to supply the 
absence of youthful whim and hilarity, by grimaces and 
grins, and artificial vivacity. I have sometimes seen 
one of these " reverend youths" endeavouring to elevate 
his wintry passions into something like love, by basking 



192 BEAUTIES OF 

in the sunshine of beauty ; and it did remind me of an 
old moth attempting to fly through a pane of glass 
towards a light without ever approaching near enough 
to warm itself, or scorch its wings. 

Never, I firmly believe, did there exist a family that 
went more by tangents than the Cocklofts. — Every 
thing is governed by whim ; and if one member starts 
a new freak, away all the rest follow like wild geese in 
a string. As the family, the servants, the horses, cats 
and dogs, have all grown old together, they have accom- 
modated themselves to each other's habits completely ; 
and though every body of them is full of odd points, 
angles, rhomboids, and ins and outs, yet somehow or 
other, they harmonize together like so many straight 
lines ; and it is truly a grateful and refreshing sight to 
see them agree so well. Should one, however, get out 
of tune, it is like a cracked fiddle, the whole concert is 
ajar ; you perceive a cloud over every brow in the 
house, and even the old chairs seem to creak affettuoso. 
If my cousin, as he is rather apt to do, betray any 
symptoms of vexation or uneasiness, no matter about 
what, he is worried to death with inquiries, which 
answer no other end but to demonstrate the good will 
of the inquirer, and put him in a passion ; for every 
body knows how provoking it is to be cut short in a fit 
of the blues, by an impertinent question about " what 
is the matter ?" when a man can't tell himself. I re- 
member, a few months ago, the old gentleman came 
home in quite a squall ; kicked poor Caesar, the mastiff, 
out of his way, as he came through the hall ; threw 
his hat on the table with most violent emphasis, and 
pulling out his box, took three huge pinches of snuff, 
and threw a fourth into the cat's eyes as he sat purring 
his astonishment by the fire-side. This was enough to 
set the body politic going ; Mrs Cockloft began " my 
dearing" it as fast as tongue could move ; the young 
ladies took each a stand at an elbow of his chair : 
Jeremy marshalled in rear ; the servants came tumbling 
in ; the mastiff put up an enquiring nose ; and even 
grimalkin, after he had cleansed his whiskers and 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 193 

finished sneezing, discovered indubitable signs of sym- 
pathy. After the most affectionate enquiries on all 
sides, it turned out that my cousin, in crossing the 
street, had got his silk stockings bespattered with mud 
by a coach which it seems belonged to a dashing gen- 
tleman who had formerly supplied the family with hot 
rolls and muffins ! Mrs Cockloft thereupon turned up 
her eyes, and the young ladies their noses ; and it would 
have edified a whole congregation to hear the conversa- 
tion which took place concerning the insolence of up- 
starts, and the vulgarity of would-be gentlemen and 
ladies, who strive to emerge from low life by dashing 
about in carriages to pay a visit two doors off, giving 
parties to people who laugh at them, and cutting all 
their old friends. 



CONVERSION OF THE AMERICANS. 

But the most important branch of civilization, and 
which has most strenuously been extolled, by the zealous 
and pious fathers of the Romish Church, is the intro- 
duction of the Christian faith. It was truly a sight 
that might well inspire horror, to behold these savages, 
stumbling among the dark mountains of paganism, and 
guilty of the most horrible ignorance of religion. It 
is true, they neither stole nor defrauded ; they were 
sober, frugal, continent, and faithful to their word ; but 
though they acted right habitually, it was all in vain, 
unless they acted so from precept. The new comers 
therefore used every method to induce them to embrace 
and practise the true religion — except indeed that of 
setting them the example. 

But notwithstanding all these complicated labours 
for their good, such was the unparalleled obstinacy of 
these stubborn wretches, that they ungratefully refused 
to acknowledge the strangers as their benefactors, and 
persisted in disbelieving the doctrines they endeavoured 
to inculcate ; most insolently alleging, that from their 



194 BEAUTIES OF 

conduct the advocates of Christianity did not seem to 
believe in it themselves. Was not this too much for 
human patience ? — would not one suppose, that the be- 
nign visitants from Europe, provoked at their incredu- 
lity, and discouraged, by their stiff-necked obstinacy, 
would for ever have abandoned their shores, and con- 
signed them to their original ignorance and misery? 
But no — so zealous were they to effect the temporal 
comfort and eternal salvation of these pagan infidels, 
that they even proceeded from the milder means of per- 
suasion to the more painful and troublesome one of 
persecution — let loose among them whole troops of 
fiery monks and furious blood-hounds — purified them 
by fire and sword, by stake and faggot ; in consequence 
of which indefatigable measures the cause of Christian 
love and charity was so rapidly advanced that, in a very 
few years, not one-fifth of the number of unbelievers 
existed in South America, that were found there at the 
time of its discovery. 

What stronger right need the European settlers ad- 
vance to the country than this ? Have not whole nations 
of uninformed savages been made acquainted with a 
thousand imperious wants and indispensable comforts, of 
which they were before wholly ignorant ? Have they 
not been literally hunted and smoked out of the dens and 
lurking places of ignorance and infidelity, and absolutely 
scourged into the right path ? Have not the temporal 
things, the vain baubles and filthy lucre of this world, 
which were too apt to engage their worldly and selfish 
thoughts, been benevolently taken from them ; and have 
they not, instead thereof, been taught to set their affec- 
tions on things above ? And, finally, to use the words 
of a Reverend Spanish Father, in a letter to his superior 
in Spain — " Can any one have the presumption to say, 
that these savage Pagans have yielded any thing more 
than an inconsiderable recompence to their benefactors, 
in surrendering to them a little pitiful tract of this dirty 
sublunary planet, in exchange for a glorious inheritance 
in the kingdom of Heaven !" 

Here, then, are three complete and undeniable sources 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 195 

of right established, any one of which was more than 
ample to establish a property in the newly discovered 
regions of America. Now, so it has happened in certain 
parts of this delightful quarter of the globe, that the right 
of discovery has been so strenuously asserted, the influ- 
ence of cultivation so industriously extended, and the 
progress of salvation and civilization so zealously pro- 
secuted; that, what with their attendant wars, persecu- 
tions, oppressions, diseases, and other partial evils that 
often hang on the skirts of great benefits, the savage 
aborigines have, some how or another, been utterly an- 
nihilated ; and this all at once brings me to a fourth right, 
which is worth all the others put together; for the ori- 
ginal claimants to the soil being all dead and buried, and 
no one remaining to inherit or dispute the soil, the 
Spaniards, as the next immediate occupants, entered 
upon the possession as clearly as the hangman succeeds 
to the clothes of the malefactor — and as they have Black- 
stone,* and all the learned expounders of the law on their 
side, they may set all actions of ejectment at defiance — 
and this last right may be entitled the right by exter- 
mination, or in other words, the right by gunpowder. 

But, lest any scruples of conscience should remain on 
this head, and to settle the question of right for ever, 
his holiness Pope Alexander VI. issued a mighty bull, 
by which he generously granted the newly discovered 
quarter of the globe to the Spaniards andPortuguese ; 
who, thus having law and gospel on their side, and be- 
ing inflamed with great spiritual zeal, shewed the Pagan 
savages neither favour nor affection, but prosecuted the 
work of discovery, colonization, civilization, and exter- 
mination, with ten times more fury than ever. 

Thus were the European worthies who first discover- 
ed America clearly entitled to the soil ; and not only en- 
titled to the soil, but likewise to the eternal thanks of 
these infidel savages, for having come so far, endured so 
many perils by sea and land, and taken such unwearied 
pains, for no other purpose but to improve their forlorn, 
uncivilized, and heathenish condition — for having made 

* Bl. Com. b. ii c. 1. 



196 BEAUTIES OF 

them acquainted with the comforts of life — for having 
introduced among them the light of religion ; and, finally, 
for having hurried them out of the world, to enjoy its 
reward ! 



TOM STRADDLE. 

Will's great crony for some time was Tom Straddle, 
to whom he really took a great liking. Straddle had 
just arrived in an importation of hardware, fresh from 
the city of Birmingham, or rather as the most learned 
English would call it, Brummagem, so famous for its 
manufactories of gimblets, pen-knives, and pepper-boxes, 
and where they make buttons and beaux enough to in- 
undate our whole country. He was a young man of 
considerable standing in the manufactory at Birming- 
ham ; sometimes had the honour to hand his master's 
daughter into a tim-whiskey, was the oracle of the ta- 
vern he frequented on Sundays, and could beat all his 
associates, if you would take his word for it, in boxing, 
beer-drinking, jumping over chairs, and imitating cats 
in a gutter, and opera-singers. Stradle was, moreover, 
a member of a catch-club, and was a great hand at ring- 
ing bob-majors ; he was, of course, a complete connois- 
seur in music, and entitled to assume that character at 
all performances in the art. He was likewise a mem- 
ber of a spouting club ; had seen a company of strolling 
actors perform in a barn, and had even, like Abel Drug- 
ger, " enacted" the part of Major Sturgeon with consi- 
derable applause ; he was consequently a profound critic, 
and fully authorised to turn up his nose at any Ameri- 
can performances. He had twice partaken of annual 
dinners, given to the head manufacturers at Birmingham, 
where he had the good fortune to get a taste of turtle 
and turbot, and a smack of champaign and Burgundy ; 
and he had heard a vast deal of the roast beef of Old 
England ; — he was therefore epicure sufficient to d — n 
every dish and every glass of wine he tasted in America,. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 197 

though at the same time he was as voracious an animal 
as ever crossed the Atlantic. Straddle had been splashed 
half a dozen times by the carriages of nobility, and had 
once the superlative felicity of being kicked out of doors 
by the footman of a noble duke ; he could, therefore, 
talk of nobility, and despise the untitled plebeians of 
America. In short, Straddle was one of those dapper, 
bustling, florid, round, sell-important " qemmen.'' who 
bounce upon us half-beau, half-button-maker ; undertake 
to give us the true polish of the bon-ton, and endeavour 
to inspire us with a proper and dignified contempt of 
our native country. 

Straddle was quite in raptures when his employers 
determined to send him to America as an agent. He 
considered himself as going among a nation of barbarians, 
where he could be received as a prodigy : he anticipated, 
with a proud satisfaction, the bustle and confusion his 
arrival would occasion ; the crowd that would throng to 
gaze at him as he passed through the streets ; and had 
little doubt but that he should excite as much curiosity 
as an Indian chief or a Turk in the streets of Birming- 
ham. He had heard of the beauty of our women, and 
chuckled at the thought of how completely he should 
eclipse their unpolished beaux, and the number of des- 
pairing lovers that would mourn the hour of his arrival. 
I am even informed by Will "Wizard, that he put good 
store of beads, spike-nails, and looking-glasses in his 
trunk, to win the affections of the fair ones as they 
paddled about in their bark canoes. The reason "Will 
gave for this error of Straddle's respecting our ladies 
was, that he had read in Guthrie's Geography that the 
aborigines of America were all savages ; and not exactly 
understanding the word aborigines, he applied to one of 
his fellow-apprentices, who assured him that it was the 
Latin word for inhabitants. 

Wizard used to tell another anecdote of Straddle, 
which always put him in a passion : — Will swore that 
the captain of the ship told him, that when Straddle 
heard they were off the banks of Newfoundland, he in- 
sisted upon goins: on shore there to rather some c:ood 
b 2 



198 BEAUTIES OF 

cabbages, of which he was excessively fond. Straddle, 
however, denied all this, and declared it to be a mis- 
chievous quiz of Will Wizard, who indeed often made 
himself merry at his expense. However this may be, 
certain it is he kept his tailor and shoemaker constant- 
ly employed for a month before his departure ; equip- 
ped himself with a smart crooked stick about eighteen 
inches long, a pair of breeches of most unheard-of 
length, a little short pair of Hoby's white-topped boots, 
that seemed to stand on tiptoe to reach his breeches, 
and his hat had the true translantic declination towards 
his right ear. The fact was — nor did he make any secret 
of it — he was determined to astonish the natives a few t 

Straddle was not a little disappointed on his arrival, 
to find the Americans were rather more civilized than 
he had imagined : — he was suffered to walk to his lodg- 
ings unmolested by a crowd, and even unnoticed by a 
single individual ; — no love-letters came pouring in up- 
on him ; — no rivals lay in wait to assassinate him ; — his 
very dress excited no attention, for there were many fools 
dressed equally ridiculous with himself. This was mor- 
tifying indeed to an aspiring youth, who had come out 
with the idea of astonishing and captivating. He was 
equally unfortunate in his pretensions to the character 
of critic, connoisseur, and boxer ; he condemned our whole 
dramatic corps, and every thing appertaining to the 
theatre ; but his critical abilities were ridiculed ; — he 
found fault with old Cockloft's dinner, not even sparing 
his wine, and was never invited to the house afterwards ; 
— he scoured the streets at night, and was cudgelled by 
a sturdy watchman ; — he hoaxed an honest mechanic, 
and was soundly kicked. Thus disappointed in all his 
attempts at notoriety, Straddle hit on the expedient 
which was resorted toby the Giblets ; — he determined to 
take the town by storm. He accordingly bought horses 
and equipages, and forthwith made a furious dash at 
style in a gig and tandem. 

As Straddle's finances were but limited, it may easily 
be supposed that his fashionable career infringed a little 
upon his consignments, which was indeed the case — for 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 199 

to use a true cockney phrase, Brummagem suffered. But 
this was a circumstance that made little impression upon 
Straddle, who was now a lad of spirit — and lads of spi- 
rit always dispise the sordid cares of keeping another 
man's money. Suspecting this circumstance, I never 
could witness any of his exhibitions of style without 
some whimsical association of ideas. Did he give an 
entertainment to a host of guzzling friends, I immedi- 
ately fancied them gormandizing heartily at the expense 
of poor Birmingham, and swallowing a consignment 
of hand-saws and razors. Did I behold him dashing 
through Broadway in his gig, I saw him, " in my mind's 
eye," driving tandem on a nest of tea-boards ; nor could 
I ever contemplate his cockney exhibitions of horseman- 
ship, but my mischievous imagination would picture him 
spurring a cask of hardware, like rosy Bachus bestrid- 
ing a beer-barrel, or the little gentleman who be-strad 
dies the world in the front of Hutching's Almanack. 

Straddle was equally successful with the Giblets, as 
may well be supposed ; for though pedestrian merit may 
strive in vain to become fashionable in Gotham, yet a 
candidate in an equipage is always recognized, and like 
Philip's ass, laden with gold, will gain admittance every 
where. Mounted in his curricle or his gig, the candi- 
date is like a statue elevated on a high pedestal ; his me- 
rits are discernable from afar, and strike the dullest 
optics. Oh ! Gotham, Gotham ! most enlightened of 
cities ! how does my heart swell with delight when I 
behold your sapient inhabitants lavishing their attention 
with such wonderful discernment ! 

Thus Straddle became quite a man of ton, and was 
caressed, and courted, and invited to dinners and balls. 
Whatever was absurd or ridiculous in him before was 
now declared to be the style. He criticised our theatre, 
and was listened to with reverence. He pronounced our 
musical entertainments barbarous ; and the judgment of 
Apollo himself would not have been more decisive. 
He abused our dinners ; and the god of eating, if there 
be any such deity, seemed to speak through his organs. 
He became at once a man of taste — for he put his ma- 



'200 BEAUTIES OF 

lediction on every thing ; and his arguments were con- 
clusive — for he supported every assertion with a bet. 
He was likewise pronounced by the learned in the fash- 
ionable world a young man of great research and deep 
observation — for he had sent home, as natural curiosi- 
ties, an ear of Indian corn, a pair of moccasons, a belt 
of wampum, and a four-leafed clover. He had taken 
great pains to enrich this curious collection with an In- 
dian, and a cataract, but without success. In fine, the 
people talked of Straddle and his equipage, and Straddle 
talked of his horses, until it was impossible for the most 
critical observer to pronounce whether Straddle or his 
horses were most admired, or whether Straddle admired 
himself or his horses most. 

Straddle was now in the zenith of his glory. He 
swaggered about parlours and drawing-rooms with the 
same unceremonious confidence he used to display in the 
taverns at Birmingham. He accosted a lady as he would 
a bar-maid; and this was pronounced a certain proof 
that he had been used to better company in Birmingham. 
He became the great man of all the taverns between 
New- York and Haerlem ; and no one stood a chance of 
being accommodated until Straddle and his horses were 
perfectly satisfied. He d — d the landlords and waiters 
with the best air in the world, and accosted them with 
gentlemanly familiarity. He staggered from the dinner- 
table to the play, entered the box like a tempest, and 
staid long enough to be bored to death, and to bore all 
those who had the misfortune to be near him. From 
thence he dashed off to a ball, time enough to flounder 
through a cotillion, tear half a dozen gowns, commit a 
number of other depredations, and make the whole 
company sensible of his infinite condescension in com- 
ing amongst them. The people of Gotham thought him 
a prodigious fine fellow ; the young bucks cultivated his 
acquaintance with the most persevering assiduity, and 
his retainers were sometimes complimented with a seat 
in his curricle, or a ride on one of his fine horses. The 
belles were delighted with the attentions of such a fash- 
ionable gentleman, and struck with astonishment at his 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 201 

learned distinctions between wrought scissors and those 
of cast steel ; together with his profound dissertations on 
buttons and horse-flesh. The rich merchants courted 
his acquaintance because he was an Englishman, and 
their wives treated him with great defference because he 
had come from beyond seas. I cannot help here observ- 
ing that your salt water is a marvellous great sharpener 
of men's wits, and I intend to recommend it to some 
of my acquaintance in a particular essay. 

Straddle continued his brilliant career for only a short 
time. His prosperous journey over the turnpike of fa- 
shion was checked by some of those stumbling-blocks in 
the way of aspiring youth called creditors — or duns : — 
a race of people who, as a celebrated writer observes, 
"are hated by the gods and men." Consignments 
slackened, whispers of distant suspicion floated in the 
dark, and those pests of society, the tailors and shoe- 
makers, rose in rebellion against Straddle. In vain 
were all his remonstrances ; in vain did he prove to them, 
that though he had given thern no money, yet he had 
given them more custom, and as many promises as any 
young man in the city. They were inflexible ; and the 
signal of danger being given, a host of other prosecutors 
pounced upon his back, Straddle saw there was but one 
way for it : he determined to do the thing genteelly, to 
go to smash like a hero, and dashed into the limits in 
high style ; being the fifteenth gentleman I have known 
to drive tandem to the—ne plus ultra — the d — 1. 

Unfortunate Straddle ! may thy fate be a warning to 
all young gentlemen who come out from Birmingham 
to astonish the natives ! — I should never have taken the 
trouble to delineate his character, had he not been a 
genuine Cockney, and worthy to be the representative 
of his numerous tribe. Perhaps my simple country- 
men may hereafter be able to distinguish between the 
real English gentleman and individuals of the cast I 
have heretofore spoken of, as mere mongrels, spring- 
ing at one bound from contemptible obscurity at home 
to daylight and splendour in this good-natured land. 
The true-born and true-bred English gentleman is a 



202 BEAUTIES OF 

character I hold in great respect ; and I love to look 
back to the period when our forefathers flourished in 
the same generous soil, and hailed each other as bro- 
thers. But the Cockney ! — when I contemplate him 
as springing too from the same source, I feel ashamed 
of the relationship, and am tempted to deny my origin. 
— In the character of Straddle is traced the complete 
outline of a true Cockney of English growth, and a 
descendant of that individual facetious character men- 
tioned by Shakspeare, "who, in pure kindness to his 
horse, buttered his hay." 



SLEEPY HOLLOW. 

In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which 
indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad 
expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch 
navigators the Tappaan Zee, and where they always 
prudently shortened sail, and implored the protection 
of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small 
market-town or rural port, which by some is called 
Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly 
known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was 
given, we are told, in former days, by the good house- 
wives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate pro- 
pensity of their husbands to linger about the village 
tavern on market days. Be that as it may, I do not 
vouch for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake 
of being precise and authentic. Not far from this vil- 
lage, perhaps about three miles, there is a little valley, 
or rather lap of land, among high hills, which is one of 
the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook 
glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one 
to repose ; and the occasional whistle of a quail, or tap- 
ping of a woodpecker, is almost the only sound that ever 
breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity. 

I recollect, that when a stripling, my first exploit in 
squirrel shooting was in a grove of tall walnut trees 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 203 

f 
that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered 
into it at noon time, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, 
and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke 
the sabbath stillness around, and was prolonged and re- 
verberated by the angry echoes. If ever I should wish 
for a retreat, whither I might steal from the world and 
its distractions, and dream quietly away the remnant of 
a troubled life, I know of none more promising than 
this little valley. 

From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar 
character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from 
the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has 
long been known by the name of Sleepy Hollow, 
and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys 
throughout all the neighbouring country. A drowsy, 
dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to 
pervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place 
was bewitched by a high German doctor during the 
early days of the settlement ; others, that an old In- 
dian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his 
powwows there before the country was discovered by 
Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place 
still continues under the sway of some witching power, 
that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, 
causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They 
are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs ; are sub- 
ject to trances and visions ; and frequently see strange 
sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The 
whole neighbourhood abounds with local tales, haunt- 
ed spots, and twillight superstitions ; stars shoot and 
meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other 
part of the country, and the night-mare, with her whole 
nine fold, seems to make it the favourite scene of her 
gambols. 

The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this en- 
chanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of 
all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on 
horseback without a head. It is said by some to be 
the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been 
carried away by a cannon ball, in some nameless battle 



204 BEAUTIES OF 

during the revolutionary war ; and who is ever and 
anon seen by the country folk, hurrying along in the 
gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His 
haunts are not confined to the valley, but extend at 
times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicini- 
ty of a church that is at no great distance. Indeed, 
certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, 
who have been careful in collecting and collating the 
floating facts concerning this spectre, allege, that the 
body of the trooper having been buried in the church- 
yard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in 
nightly quest of his head ; and that the rushing speed 
with which he sometimes passes along the Hollow, like 
a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, and in a 
hurry to get back to the church-yard before day-break. 

Such is the general purport of this legendary super- 
stition, which has furnished materials for many a wild 
story in that region of shadows ; and the spectre is 
known, at all the country fire-sides, by the name of the 
Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. 

It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have 
mentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of 
the valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one 
who resides there for a time. However wide awake 
they may have been before they entered that sleepy 
region, they are sure, in a little time to inhale the witch- 
ing influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative 
— to dream dreams, and see apparitions. 

I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud ; 
for it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here 
and there, embosomed in the great state of New York, 
that population, manners, and customs remain fixed ; 
while the great torrent of migration and improvement, 
which is making such incessant changes in other parts 
of this restless country, sweeps by them unobserved. 
They are like those little nooks of still water which 
border a rapid stream ; where we may see the straw 
and bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving 
in their mimic harbour, undisturbed by the rush of the 
passing current. Though many years have elapsed 




fckafax? Crane 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 205 

since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet 
I question whether I should not still find the same 
trees and the same families vegetating in its sheltered 
bosom. 

Ichabod Crane. 

In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote 
period of American history, that is to say, some thirty 
years since, a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod 
Crane ; whs iojourned, or, as he expressed it, " tarried," 
in Sleepy follow, for the purpose of instructing the 
children of the vicinity. He was a native of Connec- 
ticut : a stajfe which supplies the Union with pioneers 
for the mindxas well as for the forest, and sends forth 
yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and country 
schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not in- 
applicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly 
lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands 
that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might 
have served for shovels, and his whole frame most 
loosely hung together. His head was small and flat at 
top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long 
snipe nose, so that it looked like a weathercock, perched 
upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. 
To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a 
windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about 
him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of 
famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow 
eloped from a corn field. 

His school-room was a low building of one large 
room, rudely constructed of logs ; the windows partly 
glazed, and partly patched with leaves of old copy books. 
It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a 
withe twisted in the handle of the door, and stakes set 
against the window shutters ; so that though a thief 
might get in with perfect ease, he would find some em- 
barrassment in getting out ; an idea most probably 
borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from 
the mystery of an eel-pot. The school-house stood in 



206 BEAUTIES OF 

a rather lonely but pleasant situation, j ust at the foot 
of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a 
formidable birch tree growing at one end of it. From 
hence the low murmur of his pupils' voices, conning 
over their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy summer's 
day, like the hum of a bee hive ; interrupted now and 
then by the authoritative voice of the master, in the 
tone of menace or command ; or, peradventure, by the 
appalling sound of the birch, as he urged some tardy 
loiterer along the flowery path of knowledge. Truth 
to say, he was a conscientious man, that ever bore in 
mind the golden maxim, " Spare the rod and spoil the 
child." — Ichabod Crane's scholars certainly were not 
spoiled. 

I would not have it imagined, however, that he was 
one of those cruel potentates of the school, who joy in 
the smart of their subjects ; on the contrary, he admi- 
nistered justice with discrimination rather than severity ; 
taking the burthen off the backs of the weak, and lay- 
ing it on those of the strong. Your mere puny strip- 
ling, that winced at the least flourish of the rod, was 
passed by with indulgence; but the claims of justice 
were satisfied, by inflicting a double portion on some 
little, tough, w T rong-headed, broad-skirted Dutch urchin, 
who skulked and swelled, and grew dogged, and sullen 
beneath the birch. All this he called " doing his duty 
by their parents ;" and he never inflicted a chastisement, 
without following it by the assurance, so consolatory 
to the smarting urchin, that "he would remember it 
and thank him for it the longest day he had to live." 

When school hours were over, he was even the com- 
panion and playmate of the larger boys ; and on holy- 
day afternoons would convoy some of the smaller ones 
home, who happened to have pretty sisters, or good 
housewives for mothers, noted for the comforts of the 
cupboard. Indeed it behoved him to keep on good 
terms with his pupils. The revenue arising from his 
school was small, and would have been scarcely suffi- 
cient to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a huge 
feeder, and though lank, had the dilating powers of an 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 207 

Anaconda ; but to help out his maintenance, he was, 
according to country custom in those parts, boarded 
and lodged at the houses of the farmers, whose children 
he instructed. With these he lived successively a week 
at a time ; thus going the rounds of the neighbourhood, 
with all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handker- 
chief. 

That all this might not be too onerous on the purses 
of his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs 
of schooling a grievous burthen, and schoolmasters as 
mere drones, he had various ways of rendering himself 
both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers 
occasionally in the lighter labours of their farms ; help- 
ed to make hay ; mended the fences ; took the horses 
to water ; drove the cows from pasture ; and cut wood 
for the winter fire. He laid aside too, all the domi- 
nant dignity and absolute sway with which he lorded it 
in his little empire, the school, and became wonderfully 
gentle and ingratiating. He found favour in the eyes 
of the mothers, by petting the children, particularly the 
youngest; and like the lion bold, which whilome so 
magnanimously the lamb did hold, he would sit with a 
child on one knee, and rock a cradle for whole hours 
together. 

In addition to his other vocations, " he was the sing- 
ing-master of the neighbourhood, and picked up many 
bright shillings by instructing the young folks in psal- 
mody. It was a matter of no little vanity to him on 
Sundays, to take his station in front of the church gal- 
lery, with a band of chosen singers ; where, in his own 
mind, he completely carried away the palm from the 
parson. Certain it is, his voice resounded far above all 
the rest of the congregation ; and there are peculiar 
quivers still to be heard in that church, and may still be 
heard half-a-mile off, quite to the opposite side of the 
mill-pond, on a still Sunday morning, which are said 
to be legitimately descended from the nose of Ichabod 
Crane. Thus, by divers little makeshifts, in that in- 
genious way which is commonly denominated " by hook 
and by crook," the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably 



208 



BEAUTIES OF 



enough, and was thought, by all who understood no- 
thing of the labour of head work, to have a wonderful 
easy life of it. 

Superstition, 

But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and 
apparitions that suceeded. The neighbourhood is rich 
in legendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and su- 
perstitions thrive best in these sheltered long settled 
retreats ; but are trampled under foot by the shifting 
throng that forms the population of most of our country 
places. Besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts 
in most of our villages, for they have scarcely had time 
to finish their first nap, and turn themselves in their 
graves, before their surviving friends have travelled away 
from the neighbourhood ; so that when they turn out 
at night to walk their rounds, they have no acquaintance 
left to call upon. This is perhaps the reason why we 
so seldom hear of ghosts except in our long-established 
Dutch communities. 

The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of 
supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing 
to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a conta- 
gion in the very air that blew from that haunted region ; 
it breathed forth an atmosphere of dreams and fancies 
infecting all the land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow 
people were present at Van Tassel's, and, as usual, were 
dolling out their wild and wonderful legends. Many 
dismal tales were told about funeral trains, and mourn- 
ing cries and wailings heard and seen about the great 
tree where the unfortunate Major Andre was taken, and 
which stood in the neighbourhood. Some mention was 
made also of the woman in white, that haunted the dark 
glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard to shriek on 
winter nights before a storm, having perished there 
in the snow. The chief part of the stories, however, 
turned upon the favourite spectre of Sleepy Hollow, 
the headless horseman, who had been heard several 
times of late, patrolling the country ; and it was said, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 209 

tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the 
church-yard. 

The sequestered situation of this church seems al- 
ways to have made it a favourite haunt of troubled spirits. 
It stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust trees and lofty 
elms, from among which its decent whitewashed walls 
shine modestly forth, like Christian purity, beaming 
through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope de- 
scends from it to a silver sheet of water, bordered by 
high trees, between which peeps may be caught at the 
blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown 
yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one 
would think that there at least the dead might rest in 
peace. On one side of the church extends a wide 
woody dell, along which raves a large brook among 
broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep 
black part of the stream, not far from the church, was 
formerly thrown a wooden bridge ; the road that led to 
it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by over- 
hanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the 
day-time ; but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. 
Such was one of the favourite haunts of the headless 
horseman, and the place where he was most frequently 
encountered. The tale was told of old Brouwer, a 
most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the 
horseman returning from his foray into Sleepy Hollow, 
and was obliged to get up behind him ; how they gal- 
loped over bush and brake, over hill and swamp, until 
they reached the bridge ; when the horseman suddenly 
turned into a skeleton, threw old Brouwer into the 
brook, and sprung away over the tree tops with a clap 
of thunder. 



THE BROKEN HEART. 

It is a common practice with those who have outlived 
the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been brought 
up in the gay heartlessness of dissipated life, to laugh 

s2 



210 BEAUTIES OF 

at all love stories, and to treat the tales of romantic pas- 
sion as mere fictions of novelists and poets. My ob- 
servations on human nature have induced me to think 
otherwise. They have convinced me, that however the 
surface of the character may be chilled and frozen by the 
cares of the world, or cultivated into mere smiles by 
the arts of society, still there are dormant fires lurking 
in the depths of the coldest bosom, which, when once 
enkindled, become impetuous, and are sometimes deso- 
lating in their effects. Indeed, I am a true believer in 
the blind deity, and go to the full extent of his doctrines. 
Shall I confess it ! — I believe in broken hearts, and the 
possibility of dying of disappointed love. I do not, 
however, consider it a malady often fatal to my own 
sex ; but I firmly believe that it withers down many a 
lovely woman into an early grave. 

Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His 
nature leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of 
the world. Love is but the embellishment of his early 
life, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He 
seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in the world's 
thought, and dominion over his fellow men. But a 
woman's whole life is a history of the affections. Her 
heart is her world : it is there her ambition strives for 
empires ; it is there her avarice seeks for hidden trea- 
sures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventures ; 
she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of affection ; 
and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless — for it is a bank- 
ruptcy of the heart. 

To a man the disappointment of love may occasion 
some bitter pangs : it wounds some feelings of tender- 
ness — it blasts some prospects of felicity ; but he is an 
active being — he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl 
of varied occupation, or may plunge into the tide of 
pleasure ; or, if the scene of disappointment be too full 
of painful associations, he can shift his abode at will, and 
taking as it were the wings of the morning, can " fly to 
the uttermost parts of the earth, and be at rest." 

But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and 
a meditative life. She is more the companion of her 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 211 

own thoughts and feelings ; and if they are turned to 
ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for consola- 
tion ? Her lot is to be wooed and won ; and if unhappy 
in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been 
captured, and sacked, and abandoned and left desolate. 

How many bright eyes grow dim — how many soft 
cheeks grow pale — how many lovely forms fade away in- 
to the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted 
their loveliness ! As the dove will clasp its wings to its 
side, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on 
its vitals, so is it the nature of woman to hide from the 
world the pangs of wounded affection. The love of a 
delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when 
fortunate, she scarcely breathes it to herself ; but when 
otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her bosom, 
and there lets it cower and brood among the ruins of 
her peace. With her the desire of the heart has failed. 
The great charm of existence is at an end. She ne- 
glects all the cheerful exercises which gladden the spirits, 
quicken the pulses, and send the tide of life in health- 
ful currents through the veins. Her rest is broken — 
the sweet refreshment of sleep is poisoned by melan- 
choly dreams — " dry sorrow drinks her blood," until her 
enfeebled frame sinks under the slightest external inju- 
ry. Look for her, after a little while, and you will find 
friendship weeping over her untimely grave, and won- 
dering that one, who but lately glowed with all the ra- 
diance of health and beauty, should so speedily be 
brought down to " darkness and the worm." You will 
be told of some wintry chill, some casual indisposition, 
that laid her low ; — but no one knows of the mental 
malady that previously sapped her strength, and made 
her so easy a prey to the spoiler. 

She is like some tender tree, the pride and beauty of 
the grove ; graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, 
but with the worm preying at its heart. We find it 
suddenly withering, when it should be most fresh and 
luxuriant. We see it drooping its branches to the 
earth, and shedding leaf by leaf; until, wasted and pe- 
rished away, it falls even in the stillness of the forest; 



212 BEAUTIES OF 

and, as we muse over the beautiful ruin, we strive in 
vain to recollect the blast or thunderbolt that could have 
smitten it with decay. 

I have seen many instances of women running to 
waste and self-neglect, and disappearing gradually from 
the earth, almost as if they had been exhaled to heaven ; 
and have repeatedly fancied that I could trace their 
death through the various declensions of consumption, 
cold, debility, languor, melancholy, until I reached the 
first symptom of disappointed love. But an instance 
of the kind was lately told to me ; the circumstances 
are well known in the country where they happened, 
and I shall but give them in the manner they were re- 
lated. 

Every one must recollect the tragical story of young 

E , the Irish patriot ; it was too touching to be soon 

forgotten. During the troubles in Ireland he was tried, 
condemned, and executed, on a charge of treason. His 
fate made a deep impression on public sympathy. He 
was so young — so intelligent — so generous — so brave — 
so every thing that we are apt to like in a young man. 
His conduct under trial, too, was so lofty and intrepid. 
The noble indignation with which he repelled the charge 
of treason against his country — the eloquent vindica- 
tion of his name — and his pathetic appeal to posterity, 
in the hopeless hour of condemnation — all these enter- 
ed deeply into every generous bosom, and even his ene- 
mies lamented the stern policy that dictated his execu- 
tion. * 



* This ill-starred youth was the son of Dr Emmet, a gentleman 
of fortune and family, whose mind was deeply imbued with repub- 
lican principles, which he was but too successful in impressing upon 
his children. His eldest son, Thomas Addis Emmet, being a sus- 
pected character, in 1798 he accepted the terms offered by Govern- 
ment, and retired to France ; from thence he proceeded to New- 
York, where he now holds the first place at the bar of that city, 
highly respected as a lawyer and esteemed as a man. Robert, the 
person alluded to by our author, either possessing more enthusiasm 
or less prudence than his brother, became involved in a series of in- 
surrections, which at last attracted the attention of Government, 
and the unfortunate man was arrested while he lingered in his flight, 
in expectation of a last meeting with the lady to whom he was en- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 213 

But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be 
impossible to describe. In happier days and fairer for- 
tunes, he had won the affections of a beautiful and in- 
teresting girl, the daughter of a late celebrated Irish 
barrister. She loved him with the disinterested fer- 
vour of a woman's first and early love. When every 



gaged. This amiable female, whose hard fate is described with so 
much pathos by our author, was the daughter of the celebrated John 
Philpot Curran. The following address was delivered by Emmet on 
his trial. 

* I am asked if I have any thing to say why sentence of death 
should not be pronounced upon me. Was I to suffer only death, 
after being adjudged guilty, I should bow in silence ; but a man in 
my situation has not only to combat with the difficulties of fortune, 
but also the difficulties of prejudice : the sentence of the law which 
delivers over his body to the executioner consigns his character to 
obloquy. The man dies, but his memory lives; and that mine may 
not forfeit all claim to the respect of my countrymen, I use this 
occasion to vindicate myself from some of the charges advanced 
against me. 

f I am charged with being an emissary of France — 'tis false ! I 
am no emissary — I did not wish to deliver up my country to a fo- 
reign power, and least of all, to France. No ! never did I entertain 
the idea of establishing French power in Ireland— God forbid. On 
the contrary, it is evident from the introductory paragraph of the 
address of the Provisional Government, that every hazard attending 
an independent effort was deemed preferable to the more fatal risk 
of introducing a French army into the country. Small would be 
our claims to patriotism and to sense, and palpable our affectation 
of the love of liberty, if we were to encourage the profanation of 
our shores by a people who are slaves themselves, and the unprinci- 
pled and abandoned instruments of imposing slavery on others. 

' If such an inference be drawn from any part of the proclamation 
of the Provisional Government, it calumniates their views, and is 
not warranted by the fact. How could they speak of freedom to 
their countrymen ? How assume such an exalted motive, and me- 
ditate the introduction of a power which has been the enemy of 
freedom in every part of the globe ? Reviewing the conduct of 
France to other countries, could we expect better towards us ? No ! 
Let not, then, any man attaint my memory by believing that I 
could have hoped for freedom through the aid of France, and be- 
trayed the sacred cause of liberty by committing it to the power of 
her most determined foe : had I done so, I had not deserved to live ; 
and dying with such a weight upon my character, I had merited the 
honest execration of that country which gave me birth, and to 
which I would have given freedom. 

* Had I been in Switzerland, I would have fought against the 
French — in the dignity of freedom, I would have expired on the 
threshold of that country, and they should have entered it only by 
passing over my lifeless corpse. Is it then to be supposed that I 
would be slow to make the same sacrifice to my native land ? Am I, 
who lived but to be of service to my country, and who would sub- 



214 



BEAUTIES OF 



worldly maxim arrayed itself against him ; when blasted 
in fortune, and disgrace and danger darkened around his 
name, she loved him the more ardently for his very suf- 
ferings. If, then, his fate could awaken the sympathy 
even of his foes, what must have been the agony of 
her, whose whole soul was occupied by his image. Let 



ject myself to the bondage of the grave to give her independence — 
am I to be loaded with the foul and grievous calumny of b?ing an 
emissary of France ? 

' My Lord, it may be part of the system of angry justice, to bow 
a man's mind, by humiliation, to meet the ignominy of the scaffold ; 
but worse to me than the scaffold's shame, or the scaffold's terrors, 
would be the imputation of having been the agent of French des- 
potism and ambition ; and while I have breath, I will call upon my 
countrymen not to believe me guilty of so foul a crime against their 
liberties and their happiness. 

' Though you, my Lord, sit there a judge, and I stand here a cul- 
prit, yet you are but a man and I am another. T have a right there- 
fore to vindicate my character and motives from the aspersions of 
calumny ; and, as a man, to whom fame is dearer than life, I will 
make the last use of that life in rescuing my name and my memory 
from the afflicting imputation of having been an emissary of France, 
or seeking her interference in the internal regulation of our affairs. 

• Did I live to see a French army approach this country, I would 
meet it on the shore, with a torch in one hand and a sword in the 
other: I would receive them with all the destruction of war! I 
would animate my countrymen to immolate them in their very 
boats; and before our native soil should be polluted by a foreign 
foe, if they succeeded in landing, I would burn every blade of grass 
before them, raze every house, contend to the last for every inch of 
ground ; and the last spot on which the hope of freedom should 
desert me, that spot I would make my grave ! What I cannot do, 
I leave a legacy to my country, because I feel conscious that my 
death were unprofitable, and all hopes of liberty extinct, the mo- 
ment a French army obtained a footing on this land. God forbid 
that I should see my country under the hands of a foreign power. 
If the French should come as a foreign enemy, Oh ! my country- 
men ! meet them on the shore with a torch in one hand and a sword 
in the other: receive them with all the destruction of war; immo- 
late them in their boats, before our native soil shall be polluted by a 
foreign foe ! If they proceed in landing, fight them on the strand, 
burn every blade of grass before them as thev advance — raze every 
house ; and if you are driven to the centre of your country, collect 
your provisions, your property, your wives, and your daughters ; 
form a circle around them— fight while but two men are left; and 
when but one remains, let that man set fire to the pile, and release 
himself, and the families of his fallen countrymen, from the tyranny 
of France. 

' My lamp of life is nearly expired— my race is finished : the grave 
opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. All I request, then, 
at parting from the world, is the charity of its silence. Let no man 
write my epitaph j for as no man, who knows my motives, dare vin- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 



215 



those tell who have had the portals of the tomb sudden- 
ly closed between them and the being they most loved on 
earth — who have sat at its threshold, as one shut out in 
a cold and lonely world, from whence all that was most 
lovely and loving had departed. 

But then the horrors of such a grave ! so frightful, so 
dishonoured ! There was nothing for memory to dwell 
on that coidd soothe the pang of separation — none of 
those tender, though melancholy circumstances, that en- 
dear the parting scene — nothing to melt sorrow into 
those blessed tears, sent, like the dews of heaven, to 
revive the heart in the parting hour of anguish. 

To render her widowed situation more desolate, she 
had incurred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate 
attachment, and was an exile from the paternal roof. 
But could the sympathy and kind offices of friends have 
reached a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, she 
would have experienced no want of consolation, for the 
Irish are a people of quick and generous sensibilities. 
The most delicate and cherishing attentions were paid 
her by families of wealth and distinction. She was led 
into society, and they tried by all kinds of occupation 
and amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her 
from the tragical story of her love. But it was all in 
vain. There are some strokes of calamity that scathe 
and scorch the soul — that penetrate to the vital seat of 
happiness — and blast it, never again to put forth bud or 
blossom. She never objected to frequent the haunts 
of pleasure, but she was as much alone there as in the 
depths of solitude. She walked about in a sad reverie, 
apparently unconscious of the world around her. She 
carried with her an inward woe that mocked at all the 
blandishments of friendship, and " heeded not the song 
of the charmer, charm he never so wisely." 



dicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them ; let them 
and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain unin- 
scribed, till other times and other men can do justice to my charac- 
ter.' 



216 BEAUTIES OF 

The person who told me her story had seen her at a 
masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone 
wretchedness more striking and painful than to meet it 
in such a scene. To find it wandering like a spectre, 
lonely and joyless, where all around is gay — to see it 
dressed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so 
wan and woe-begone, as if it had tried in vain to cheat 
the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sor- 
row. After strolling through the splendid rooms and 
giddy crowd with an air of utter abstraction, she sat 
herself down on the steps of an orchestra, and looking 
about for some time with a vacant air, that showed her 
insensibility to the garish scene, she began, with the 
capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plain- 
tive air. She had an exquisite voice ; but on this occa- 
sion it w r as so simple, so touching, it breathed forth 
such a soul of wretchedness, that she drew a crowd 
mute and silent around her, and melted every one into 
tears. 

The story of one so true and tender could not but 
excite great interest in a country remarkable for enthu- 
siasm. It completely won the heart of a brave officer, 
who paid his addresses to her, and thought that one so 
true to the dead could not but prove affectionate to the 
living. She declined his attentions, for her thoughts 
were irrevocably engrossed by the memory of her for- 
mer lover. He, however, persisted in his suit. He 
solicited not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was 
assisted by her conviction of his worth, and her sense 
of her own destitute and dependent situation, for she 
was existing on the kindness of friends. In a word, he 
at length succeeded in gaining her hand, though with 
the solemn assurance, that her heart was unalterably 
another's. 

He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change 
of scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes. 
She was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an 
effort to be a happy one ; but nothing could cure the si- 
lent and devouring melancholy that had entered into her 
very soul. She wasted away in a slow, but hopeless 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 217 

decline, and at length sunk into the grave, the victim of 
a broken heart. * 



A WRECK AT SEA. 

We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at 
a distance. At sea, every thing that breaks the mono- 
tony of the surrounding expanse attracts attention. It 
proved to be the mast of a ship that must have been 
completely wrecked ; for there were the remains of 
handkerchiefs, by which some of the crew had fastened 
themselves to this spar, to prevent their being washed 
off by the waves. There was no trace by which the 
name of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had 
evidently drifted about for many months ; clusters of 
shell fish had fastened about it, and long sea weeds 
flaunted at its sides. But where, thought I, is the 
crew ? Their struggle has long been over — they have 
gone down amidst the roar of the tempest — their bones 
lie whitening among the caverns of the deep. Silence, 



* It was on her, says our Author, that Moore, the distinguished 
Irish Poet, composed the following lines : 

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, 

- And lovers around her are sighing ; 
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, 
For her heart in his grave is lying. 

She sings the wild songs of her deir native plains, 

Every note which he lov'd awaking — 
Ah ! little they think, who delight in ner strains, 

How the heart of the minstrel is breaking ! 

He had lived for his love— for his country he died, 
They were all that to life had entwined him— 

Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, 
Nor long will his love stay behind him ! 

Oh ! make her a grave where the sun-beams rest, 

When they promise a glorious morrow ; 
They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the west, 

From her own lov'd island of sorrow ! 



218 BEAUTIES OF 

oblivion, like the waves, have closed over them, and no 
one can tell the story of their end. What sighs have 
been wafted after that ship ! what prayers offered up at 
the deserted fireside of home ! How often has the mis- 
tress, the wife, the mother, pored over the daily news, 
to catch some casual intelligence of this rover of the 
deep ! How has expectation darkened into anxiety — 
anxiety into dread — and dread into despair ! Alas ! not 
one memento shall ever return for love to cherish. All 
that shall ever be known is, that she sailed from her 
port, " and was never heard of more !" 

The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many 
dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the 
evening, when the weather, which had hitherto been 
fair, began to look wild and threatening, and gave indi- 
cations of one of those sudden storms that will some- 
times break in upon the serenity of a summer voyage. 
As we sat round the dull light of a lamp in the cabin, 
that made the gloom more ghastly, every one had his 
tale of shipwreck and disaster. I was particularly struck 
with a short one related by the captain. 

" As I was sailing," said he, " in a fine stout ship, 
across the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy 
fogs that prevail in those parts rendered it impossible 
for us to see far ahead even in the day-time ; but at 
night the weather was so thick that we could not dis- 
tinguish any object at twice the length of the ship. I 
kept lights at the mast head, and a constant watch for- 
ward to look out for fishing smacks, which are accus- 
tomed to lie at anchor on the banks. The wind was 
blowing a smacking breeze, and we were going at a great 
rate through the water. Suddenly the watch gave the 
thrilling alarm of ' a sail ahead !' — it was scarcely uttered 
before we were upon her. She was a small schooner, 
at anchor, with her broadside towards us. The crew 
were all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a light. We 
struck her just a-midships. The force, the size, and 
weight of our vessel bore her down below the waves ; 
we passed over her and were hurried on our course. 
As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, I had a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 219 

glimpse of two or three half naked wretches rushing 
from her cabin ; they just started from their beds to be 
swallowed shrieking by the waves. I heard their drown- 
ing cry mingling with the wind. The blast that bore it 
to our ears swept us out of all further hearing. I shall 
never forget that cry ! It was some time before we 
could put the ship about, she was under such head- way. 
We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to the place 
where the smack had anchored. We cruised about for 
several hours in the dense fog. We tired signal guns, 
and listened if we might hear the halloo of any survi- 
vors : but all was silent — we never saw or heard any 
thing of them more. " 

Land. 

It was a fine sunny morning, when the thrilling cry of 
" land !" was given from the mast head. None but 
those who have experienced it, can form an idea of the 
delicious throng of sensations which rush into an Ame- 
rican's bosom when he first comes in sight of Europe. 
There is a volume of associations with the very name. 
It is the land of promise, teeming with every thing of 
which his childhood has heard, or on which his studious 
years have pondered 

From that time until the moment of arrival, it was 
all feverish excitement. The ships of war, that prowled 
like guardian giants along the coast ; the headlands of 
Ireland, stretching out into the channel; the Welsh 
mountains, towering into the clouds ; all were objects 
of intense interest. As we sailed up the Mersey, I 
reconnoitred the shores with a telescope. My eye 
dwelt with delight on neat cottages, with their trim 
shrubberies and green grass plots. I saw the moulder- 
ing ruin of an abbey overrun with ivy, and the taper 
spire of a village church rising from the brow of a neigh- 
bouring hill — all were characteristic of England. 

The tide and wind were so favourable, that the ship 
was enabled to come at once to the pier. It was 
thronged with people ; some idle lookers-on, others 



220 BEAUTIES OF 

eager expectants of friends or relatives. I could dis- 
tinguish the merchant to whom the ship was consigned. 
I knew him by his calculating brow and restless air. 
His hands were thrust into his pockets ; he was whis- 
tling thoughtfully and walking to and fro, a small space 
having been accorded him by the crowd, in deference 
to his temporary importance. There were repeated 
cheerings and salutations interchanged between the 
shore and ship, as friends happened to recognize each 
other. I particularly noticed one young woman of hum- 
ble dress, but interesting demeanour. She was leaning 
forward from among the crowd ; her eye hurried over 
the ship as it neared the shore, to catch some wished- 
for countenance. She seemed disappointed and agi- 
tated ; when I heard a faint voice call her name. — It 
was from a poor sailor, who had been ill all the voyage, 
and had excited the sympathy of every one on board. 
When the weather was fine, his messmates had spread 
a mattress for him on deck in the shade, but of late his 
illness had so increased, that he had taken to his ham- 
mock, and only breathed a wish that he might see his 
wife before he died. He had been helped on deck as 
we came up the river, and was now leaning against the 
shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, so pale, so 
ghastly, that it was no wonder even the eye of affec- 
tion did not recognize him. But at the sound of his 
voice, her eye darted on his features ; it read at once 
a whole volume of sorrow ; she clasped her hands, ut- 
tered a faint shriek, and stood wringing them in silent 
agony. 



GENIUS. 

It is interesting to notice how some minds seem almost 
to create themselves, springing up under every disad- 
vantage, and working their solitary but irresistible way 
through a thousand obstacles. Nature seems to delight 
in disappointing the assiduities of art, with which it 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 221 

would rear legitimate dullness to maturity; and to 
glory in the vigour and luxuriance of her chance pro- 
ductions. She scatters the seeds of genius to the winds, 
and though some may perish among the stony places of 
the world, and some be choaked by the thorns and bram- 
bles of early adversity, yet others will now and then 
strike root even in the clefts of the rock, struggle brave- 
ly up into sunshine, and spread over their sterile birth- 
place, all the beauties of vegetation. 



A CONTRAST. 

I was yet a stranger in England, and curious to notice 
the manners of its fashionable classes. I found, as 
usual, that there was the least pretension where there 
was the most acknowledged title to respect. I was 
particularly struck, for instance, with the family of a 
nobleman of high rank, consisting of several sons and 
daughters. Nothing could be more simple and unas- 
suming than their appearance. They generally came 
to church in the plainest equipage, and often on foot. 
The young ladies would stop and converse in the kind- 
est manner with the peasantry, caress the children, and 
listen to the stories of the humble cottagers. Their 
countenances were open and beautifully fair, with an 
expression of high refinement ; but, at the same time, a 
frank cheerfulness, and an engaging affability. Their 
brothers were tall, and elegantly formed. They were 
dressed fashionably, but simply ; with strict neatness 
and propriety, but without any mannerism or foppish- 
ness. Their whole demeanour was easy and natural, 
with that lofty grace and noble frankness which be- 
speak free-born souls, that have never been checked in 
their growth by feelings of inferiority. There is a 
healthful hardiness about real dignity, that never dreads 
contact and communication with others, however hum- 
ble. It is only spurious pri<de that is morbid and sen- 
sitive, and shrinks from every touch. I was pleased to 



222 BEAUTIES OF 

see the manner in which they would converse with the 
peasantry about those rural concerns and field-sports, in 
which the gentlemen of this country so much delight. 
In these conversations there was neither haughtiness 
on the one part nor servility on the other; and you 
were only reminded of the difference of rank by the 
habitual respect of the peasant. 

In contrast to these, was the family of a wealthy ci- 
tizen, who had amassed a vast fortune ; and having pur- 
chased the estate and mansion of a ruined nobleman in 
the neighbourhood, was endeavouring to assume all the 
style and dignity of an hereditary lord of the soil. The 
family always came to church en prince. They were 
rolled majestically along in a carriage emblazoned with 
arms. The crest glittered in silver radiance from every 
part of the harness where a crest could possibly be 
placed. A fat coachman in a three cornered hat, richly 
laced, and a flaxen wig curling close round his rosy face, 
was seated on the box, with a sleek Danish dog beside 
him. Two footmen, in gorgeous liveries, with huge 
bouquets, and gold-headed canes, lolled behind. The 
carriage rose and sunk on its long springs with peculiar 
stateliness of motion. The very horses champed their 
bits, arched their necks, and glanced their eyes more 
proudly than common horses ; either because they had 
got a little of the family feeling, or were reined up more 
tightly than ordinary. 

I could not but admire the style with which this 
splendid pageant was brought up to the gate of the 
church-yard. There was a vast effect produced at the 
turning of an angle of the wall ; — a great smacking of 
the whip, straining and scrambling of the horses, glis- 
tening of harness, and flashing of wheels through gravel. 
This was the moment of triumph and vain-glory to the 
coachman. The horses were urged and checked until 
they were fretted into a foam. They threw out their 
feet in a prancing trot, dashing about pebbles at every 
step. The crowd of villagers, sauntering quietly to 
church, opened precipitately to the right and left, gap- 
ing in vacant admiration. On reaching the gate the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 223 

horses were pulled up with a suddenness that produced 
an immediate stop, and almost threw them on their 
haunches. 

There was an extraordinary hurry of the footmen to 
alight, open the door, pull down the steps, and prepare 
every thing for the descent on earth of this august fa- 
mily. The old citizen first emerged his round red face 
from out the door, looking about him with the pompous 
air of a man accustomed to rule on ' Change, and shake 
the Stock Market with a nod. His consort, a fine, 
fleshy, comfortable dame, followed him. There seemed, 
I must confess, but little pride in her composition. She 
was the picture of broad, honest, vulgar enjoyment. 
The world went well with her : and she liked the 
world. She had fine clothes, a fine house, a fine car- 
riage, fine children, every thing was fine about her : it 
was nothing but driving about, and visiting and feasting. 
Life was to her a perpetual revel ; it was one long Lord 
Mayor's day. 

Two daughters succeeded to this goodly couple. 
They certainly were handsome ; but had a supercilious 
air that chilled admiration, and disposed the spectator 
to be critical. They were ultra-fashionable in dress ; 
and, though no one could deny the richness of their de- 
corations, yet their appropriateness might be questioned 
amidst the simplicity of a country church. They de- 
scended loftily from the carriage, and moved up the line 
of peasantry with a step that seemed dainty of the soil 
it trod on. They cast an excursive glance around, that 
passed coldly over the burly faces of the peasantry, un- 
til they met the eyes of the nobleman's family, when 
their countenances immediately brightened into smiles, 
and they made the most profound and elegant courte- 
sies, which were returned in a manner that showed they 
were but slight acquaintances. 

I must not forget the two sons of this aspiring citi- 
zen, who came to church in a dashing curricle, with 
out-riders. They were arrayed in the extremity of the 
mode, with all that pedantry of dress which marks the 
man of questionable pretensions to style. They kept 



224 BEAUTIES OF 

entirely by themselves, eyeing every one askance that 
came near them, as if measuring his claims to respect- 
ability ; yet they were without conversation, except the 
exchange of an occasional cant phrase. They even 
moved artificially ; for their bodies, in compliance with 
the caprice of the day, had been disciplined into the 
absence of all ease and freedom. Art had done every 
thing to accomplish them as men of fashion, but nature 
had denied them the nameless grace. They were vul- 
garly shaped, like men formed for the common purposes 
of life, and had that air of supercilious assumption 
which is never seen in the true gentleman. 

I have been rather minute in drawing the pictures of 
these two families, because I considered them speci- 
mens of what is often to be met with in this country — 
the unpretending great, and the arrogant little. I have 
no respect for titled rank, unless it be accompanied 
with true nobility of soul ; but I have remarked, in all 
countries where artificial distinctions exist, that the 
very highest classes are always the most courteous and 
unassuming. Those who are well assured of their own 
standing are least apt to trespass on that of others ; 
whereas, nothing is so offensive as the aspirings of vul- 
garity, which thinks to elevate itself by humiliating its 
neighbour. 

As I have brought these families into contrast, I 
must notice their behaviour in church. That of the 
nobleman's family was quiet, serious, and attentive; 
not that they appeared to have any fervour of devo- 
tion, but rather a respect for sacred things, and sacred 
places, inseparable from good breeding. The others, 
on the contrary, were in a perpetual flutter and whis- 
per ; they betrayed a continual consciousness of finery, 
and a sorry ambition of being the wonders of a rural 
congregation. 

The old gentleman was the only one really attentive 
to the service. He took the whole burden of family de- 
votion upon himself, standing bolt upright, and uttering 
the responses with a loud voice that might be heard all 
over the church. It was evident that he was one of 



WASHINGTON [RVING. 225 

those thorough church and king men, who connect the 
idea of devotion and loyalty ; who consider the Deity, 
somehow or other, of the government party, and religion 
" a very excellent sort of thing, that ought to be coun- 
tenanced and kept up." 

When he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed 
more by way of example to the lower orders, to show 
them, that, though so great and wealthy, he was not 
above being religious ; as I have seen a turtle-fed Al- 
derman swallow publicly a basin of charity soup, smack- 
ing his lips at every mouthful, and pronouncing it 
"excellent food for the poor." 

When the service was at an end, I was curious to 
witness the several exits of my groups. The young 
noblemen and their sisters, as the day was fine, prefer- 
red strolling home accross the fields, chatting with the 
country people as they went. The others departed as 
they came, in grand parade. Again were the equipages 
wheeled up to the gate. There was again the smacking 
of whips, the clattering of hoofs, and the glittering of 
harness. The horses started off almost at a bound; 
the villagers again hurried to right and left ; the wheels 
threw up a cloud of dust ; and the aspiring family was 
wrapt out of sight in a whirlwind. 



LETTER 

FROM MU STAPH A RUB-A-DUB KELI KHAN, 

To Assem Hacchem, principal Slave-driver to his Highness 
the Bashaw of Tripoli, 

Sweet, O Assem ! is the memory of distant friends ! 
Like the mellow ray of a departing sun, it falls tenderly 
yet sadly on the heart. Every hour of absense from my 
native land rolls heavily by, like the sandy wave of the 
desert ; and the fair shores of my country rise blooming 
to my imagination, clothed in the soft illusive charms 
of distance. I sigh, yet no one listens to the sigh of 
the captive : I shed the bitter tear of recollection, but 



226 BEAUTIES OF 

no one sympathises in the tear of the turbaned stranger ! 
— Think not, however, thou brother of my soul, that 
I complain of the horrors of my situation ; think not 
that my captivity is attended with the labours, the 
chains, the scourges, the insults, that render slavery, 
with us, more dreadful than the pangs of hesitating, 
lingering death. Light, indeed, are the restraints on the 
personal freedom of thy kinsman ; but who can enter 
into the afflictions of the mind? who can describe the 
agonies of the heart? They are mutable as the clouds 
of the air ; they are countless as the waves that divide 
me from my native country. 

I have, of late, my dear Assem, laboured under an in- 
convenience singularly unfortunate, and am reduced to 
a dilemma most ridiculously embarrassing Why should 
I hide it from the companion of my thoughts, the part- 
ner of my sorrows and my joys ? Alas ! Assem, thy 
friend Mustapha, the invincible captain of a ketch, is 
sadly in want of a pair of breeches ! Thou wilt, doubt- 
less smile, O most grave Mussulman, to hear me indulge 
in such ardent lamentations about a circumstance so tri- 
vial, and a want apparently so easy to be satisfied : but 
little canst thou know of the mortifications attending 
my necessities, and the astonishing difficulty of supplying 
them. Honoured by the smiles and attentions of the 
beautiful ladies of this city, who have fallen in love with 
my whiskers and my turban ; courted by the bashaws 
and the great men, who delight to have me at their 
feasts ; the honour of my company eagerly solicited by 
every fiddler who gives a concert ; think of my chagrin 
at being obliged to decline the host of invitations that 
daily overwhelm me, merely for want of a pair of 
breeches ! Oh, Allah ! Allah ! that thy disciples could 
come into the world all be- feathered like a bantam, or 
with a pair of leather breeches like the wild deer of the 
forest ! Surely, my friend, it is the destiny of man to be 
for ever subjected to petty evils, which, however trifling 
in appearance, prey in silence on this little pittance of 
enjoyment, and poison those moments of sunshine, 
which might otherwise be consecrated to happiness. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 227 

The want of a garment, thou wilt say, is easily sup- 
plied ; and thou mayest suppose need only be mentioned 
o be remedied at once by any tailor of the land. Little 
canst thou conceive the impediments which stand in 
;he way of my comfort, and still less art thou acquainted 
vith the prodigious great scale on which every thing is 
xansacted in this country. The nation moves most 
najestically slow and clumsy in the most trivial affairs, 
ike the unweildy elephant which makes a formidable 
lifficulty of picking up a straw ! When I hinted my ne- 
cessities to the officer who has charge of myself and my 
companions, I expected to have been forthwith relieved; 
3ut he made an amazingly long face — told me that we 
tvere prisoners of state — that we must therefore be 
ilothed at the expense of the government ; that as no 
provision has been made by the Congress for an emer- 
gency of the kind, it was impossible to furnish me with 

pair of breeches, until all the sages of the nation had 
jeen convened to talk over the matter, and debate upon 
;he expediency of granting my request. Sword of the 
mmortal Khalid, thought I, but this is great ! — this is 
truly sublime ! All the sages in an immense logocracy 
assembled together to talk about my breeches ! — Vain 
mortal that I am ! I cannot but own I was somewhat 
reconciled to the delay which must necessarily attend 
this method of clothing me, by the consideration that 
f they made the affair a national act, my " name must 
[)f course be embodied in history," and myself and my 
breeches flourish to immortality in the annals of this 
mighty empire ! 

" But pray, sir," said I, "how does it happen that a 
natter so insignificant should be erected into an object of 
;uch importance as to employ the representative wisdom 
)f the nation ? and what is the cause of their talking so 
much about a trifle ?" — " Oh," replied the officer, who 
acts as our slave-driver, " it all proceeds from economy. 
If the government did not spend ten times as much 
money in debating whether it was proper to supply you 
with breeches as the breeches themselves would cost, the 
people who govern the bashaw and his divan would 



228 BEAUTIES OF 

straightway begin to complain of their liberties being 
infringed — the national finances squandered — not a hos- 
tile slang-whanger throughout the logocracy but would 
burst forth like a barrel of combustion — and ten chances 
to one but the bashaw and the sages of his divan would 
all be turned out of office together. My good Mussul- 
man," continued he, "the administration have the good 
of the people too much at heart to trifle with their pock- 
ets ; and they would sooner assemble and talk away ten 
thousand dollars than expend fifty silently out of the 
treasury — such is the wonderful spirit of economy that 
pervades every branch of this government." "But," 
said I, "how is it possible they can spend money in 
talking : surely words cannot be the current coin of this 
country ?" — " Truly," cried he, smiling, " your question 
is pertinent enough, for words, indeed, often supply the 
place of cash among us, and many an honest debt is paid 
in promises; but the fact is, the grand bashaw and the 
members of Congress, or grand talkers of the nation, 
either receive a yearly salary or are paid by the day." — 
" By the nine hundred tongues of the great beast in 
Mahomet's vision, but the murder is out ! it is no 
wonder these honest men talk so much about nothing, 
when they are paid for talking like day-labourers." — 
" You are mistaken," said my driver ; " it is nothing 
but economy." 

I remained silent for some minutes, for this inexpli- 
cable word economy always discomfits me ; — and when 
I flatter myself I have grasped it, it slips through my 
fingers like a jack-o'-lantern. I have not, nor perhaps 
ever shall, acquire sufficient of the philosophic policy of 
this government, to draw a proper distinction between 
an individual and a nation. If a man was to throw away 
a pound in order to save a beggarly penny, and boast at 
the same time of his economy, I should think him on a 
par with the fool in the fable of Alfanji, who, in skin- 
ning a flint worth a farthing, spoiled a knife worth fifty 
times the sum, and thought he had acted wisely. The 
shrewd fellow would doubtless have valued himself much 
more highly on his economy, could he have known that 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 229 

his example would one day be followed by the bashaw 
of America, and the sages of his divan. 

This economic disposition, my friend, occasions much 
fighting of the spirit, and innumerable contests of the 
tongue in this talking assembly. Wouldst thou believe 
it ? they were actually employed for a whole week in a 
most strenuous and eloquent debate about patching up a 
hole in the wall in the room appropriated to their meet- 
ings ! A vast profusion of nervous argument and pomp- 
ous declamation was expended on the occasion. Some 
of the orators, I am told, being rather waggishly inclined, 
were most stupidly jocular on the occasion ; but their 
waggery gave great offence, and was highly reprobated 
by the more weighty part of the assembly ; who hold all 
wit and humour in abomination, and thought the busi- 
ness in hand much too solemn and serious to be treated 
lightly. It was supposed by some, that this affair would 
have occupied a whole winter, as it was a subject upon 
which several gentlemen spoke who had never been 
known to open their lips in that place, except to say yes 
and no. These silent members are, by way of distinc- 
tion, denominated orator mums, and are highly valued 
in this country, on account of their great talents for 
silence — a qualification extremely rare in a logocracy. 

Fortunately for the public tranquillity, in the hottest 
part of the debate, when two rampant Virginians, brim- 
full of logic and philosophy, were measuring tongues, 
and syllogistically cudgelling each other out of their un- 
reasonable notions, the president of the divan, a knowing 
old gentleman, one night slyly sent a mason with a hod 
of mortar, who in the course of a few minutes closed up 
the hole, and put a final end to the argument. Thus 
did thiswise old gentleman, by hitting on a most simple 
expedient, in all probability, save his country as much 
money as would build a gun-boat, or pay a hireling slang- 
whanger for a whole volume of words. As it happened, 
only a few thousand dollars were expended in paying 
these men, who are denominated, I suppose in derision, 
legislators. 

Another instance of their economy I relate with plea- 
u 



230 BEAUTIES OF 

sure, for I really begin to feel a regard for these poor 
barbarians. They talked away the best part of a whole 
winter before they could determine not to expend a few 
dollars in purchasing a sword to bestow on an illustri- 
ous warrior : yes, Assem, on that very hero who fright- 
ened all our poor old women and young children at 
Derne, and fully proved himself a greater man than the 
mother that bore him. * Thus, my friend, is the whole 
collective wisdom of this mighty logocracy employed in 
somniferous debates about the most trivial affairs ; as I 
have sometimes seen a Herculean mountebank exerting 
all his energies in balancing a straw upon his nose. 
Their sages behold the minutest object with the micro- 
scopic eyes of a pismire ; mole-hills swell into mountains, 
and a grain of mustard-seed will set the whole ant-hill 
in a hubbub. Whether this indicates a capacious vision, 
or a diminutive mind, I leave thee to decide ; for my 
part, I consider it as another proof of the great scale on 
which every thing is transacted in this country. 

I have before told thee that nothing can be done with- 
out consulting the sages of the nation, who compose the 
assembly called the Congress. This prolific body may 
not improperly be called the " mother of invention ;" 
and a most fruitful mother it is, let me tell thee, though 
its children are generally abortions. It has lately la- 
boured with what was deemed the conception of a mighty 
navy. — All the old women and the good wives that 
assist the bashaw in his emergencies, hurried to head- 
quarters to be busy, like midwives at the delivery. — All 
was anxiety, fidgeting, and consultation ; when after a 
deal of groaning and struggling, instead of formidable 
first-rates and gallant frigates, out crept a litter of sorry 
little gun-boats ! These are most pitiful little vessels, 
partaking vastly of the character of the grand bashaw, 
who has the credit of begetting them ; being flat, shal- 
low vessels that can only sail before the wind ; — must 
always keep in with the land ; — are continually foun- 



* General Eaton. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 231 

dering or running on shore ; and, in short, are only fit 
for smooth water. Though intended for the defence 
of the maritime cities, yet the cities are obliged to defend 
them ; and they require as much nursing as so many 
rickety little bantlings. They are, however, the darling 
pets of the grand bashaw, being the children of his 
dotage, and, perhaps, from their diminutive size and 
palpable weakness, are called the " infant navy of Ame- 
rica. The art that brought them into existence was- 
almost deified by the majority of the people as a grand 
stroke of economy — By the beard of Mahomet, but 
this word is truly inexplicable ! 

To this economic body, therefore, was I advised to 
address my petition, and humbly to pray, that the august 
assembly of sages would, in the plenitude of their wisdom 
and the magnitude of their powers, munificently bestow 
on an unfortunate captive a pair of cotton breeches ! 
" Head of the immortal Amrou," cried I, " but this 
would be presumptuous to a degree ! — What ! after these 
worthies have thought proper to leave their country naked 
and defenceless, and exposed to all the political storms 
that rattle without, can I expect that they will lend a 
helping hand to comfort the extremities of a solitary 
captive ?" My exclamation was only answered by a smile, 
and I was consoled by the assurance, that so far from 
being neglected, it was every way probable my breeches 
might occupy a whole session of the divan, and set several 
of the longest heads together by the ears. Flattering 
as was the idea of a whole nation being agitated about 
my breeches, yet I own I was somewhat dismayed at 
the idea of remaining in querpuo, until all the national 
gray-beards should have made a speech on the occasion, 
and given their consent to the measure. The embar- 
rassment and distress of mind which I experienced were 
visible in my countenance ; and my guard, who is a man 
of infinite good nature, immediately suggested, as a more 
expeditious plan of supplying my wants, a benefit at the 
theatre. Though profoundly ignorant of his meaning, 
I agreed to his proposition, the result of which I shall 
disclose to thee in another letter. 



232 BEAUTIES OF 

Fare-thee-well, dear Assem ; in thy pious prayers to 
our great prophet, never forget to solicit thy friend's re- 
turn ; and when thou numberest up the many blessings 
bestowed on thee by all-bountiful Allah, pour forth thy 
gratitude that he has cast thy nativity in a land where 
there is no assembly of legislative chatterers ; no great 
bashaw who bestrides a gun-boat for a hobby-horse ; 
where the word economy is unknown ; and where an 
unfortunate captive is not obliged to call upon the whole 
nation to cut him out a pair of breeches. 

Ever thine, 

Mustapha. 



POETRY. 

(From Salmagundi. J 

Though enter'd on that sober age, 
When men withdraw from fashion's stage, 
And leave the follies of the day, 
To shape their course a graver way ; 
Still those gay scenes I loiter round, 
In which my youth sweet transport found : 
And though I feel their joys decay, 
And languish every hour away, — 
Yet, like an exile doom'd to part 
From the dear country of his heart, 
From the fair spot in which he sprung, 
Where his first notes of love were sung, 
Will often turn to wave the hand, 
And sigh his blessings on the land ; 
Just so my lingering watch I keep, 
Thus oft I take the farewell peep. 

And, like that pilgrim who retreats 
Thus lagging from his parent seats, 
When the sad thought pervades his mind, 
That the fair land he leaves behind 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 233 

Is ravaged by a foreign foe, 
Its cities waste, its temples low, 
And ruined all those haunts of joy 
That gave him rapture when a boy ; 
Turns from it with averted eye, 
And while he heaves the anguish'd sigh, 
Scarce feels regret that the loved shore 
Shall beam upon his sight no more ; — 
Just so it grieves my soul to view, 
While breathing forth a fond adieu, 
The innovations pride has made, 
The fustian, frippery, and parade, 
That now usurp with mawkish grace 
Pure tranquil pleasure's wonted place ! 

'Twas joy we looked for in my prime, 
That idol of the olden time ; 
When all our pastimes had the art 
To please, and not mislead the heart. 
Style cursed us not, — that modern flash, 
That love of racket and of trash, 
Which scares at once all feeling joys, 
And drowns delight in empty noise ; 
Which barters friendship, mirth, and truth, 
The artless air, the bloom of youth, 
And all those gentle sweets that swarm 
Round nature in their simplest form, 
For cold display, for hollow state, 
The trappings of the would-be-great. 

Oh ! once again those days recall, 
When heart met heart in fashion's hall ; 
When every honest guest would flock 
To add his pleasure to the stock, 
More fond his transports to express 
Than show the tinsel of his dress ! 
These were the times that clasp'd the soul 
In gentle friendship's soft controul ; 
Our fair ones, unprofaned by art, 
Content to gain an honest heart ; 
u 2 



234 BEAUTIES OF 

No train of sighing swains desired, 
Sought to be loved and not admired. 
But now, 'tis form, not love, unites ; 
'Tis show, not pleasure, that invites. 
Each seeks the ball to play the queen, 
To flirt, to conquer, to be seen; 
Each grasps at universal sway, 
And reigns the idol of the day ; 
Exults amidst a thousand sighs, 
And triumphs when a lover dies. 
Each belle a rival belle surveys, 
Like deadly foe with hostile gaze ; 
Nor can " her dearest friend " caress, 
Till she has slily scann'd her dress ; 
Ten conquests in one year will make, 
And six eternal friendships break ! 

How oft I breathe the inward sigh, 
And feel the dew-drop in my eye, 
When I behold some beauteous frame, 
Divine in every thing but name, 
Just venturing, in the tender age, 
On fashion's late new-fangled stage ! 
Where soon the guiltless heart shall cease 
To beat in artlessness and peace ; 
Where all the flowers of gay delight 
With which youth decks its prospects bright, 
Shall wither 'mid the cares, the strife, 
The cold realities of life ! 

Thus lately in my careless mood, 
As I the world of fashion view'd, 
While celebrating great and small, 
That grand solemnity, a ball, 
My roving vision chanc'd to light 
On two sweet forms divinely bright ; 
Two sister-nymphs, alike in face, 
In mien, in loveliness, and grace ; 
Twin rose-buds, bursting into bloom, 
In all their brilliance and perfume ; 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 235 

Like those fair forms that often beam 
Upon the eastern poet's dream ! 
For Eden had each lovely maid 
In native innocence array'd, — 
And heaven itself had almost shed 
Its sacred halo round each head ! 

They seem'd, just entering hand in hand, 
To cautious tread this fairy land ; 
To take a timid hasty view, 
Enchanted with a scene so new. 
The modest blush, untaught by art, 
Bespoke their purity of heart ; 
And every timorous act unfurl'd 
Two souls unspotted by the world. 

Oh, how these strangers joy 'd my sight, 
And thrill'd my bosom with delight ! 
They brought the visions of my youth 
Back to my soul in all their truth ; 
Recall'd fair spirits into day, 
That Time's rough hand had swept away. 
Thus the bright natives from above, 
Who come on messages of love, 
Will bless, at rare and distant whiles, 
Our sinful dwellings by their smiles. 

Oh ! my romance of youth is past — 
Dear airy dreams, too bright to last. 
Yet when such forms as these appear, 
I feel your soft remembrance here ; 
For oh ! the simple poet's heart, 
On which fond love once play'd its part, 
Still feels the soft pulsations beat, 
As loth to quit their former seat ; 
Just like the heart's melodious wire, 
Swept by a bard with heavenly fire — 
Though ceas'd the loudly swelling strain, 
Yet sweet vibrations long remain. 



236 BEAUTIES OF 

Full soon I found the lovely pair 
Had sprung beneath a mother's care, 
Hard by a neighb'ring streamlet's side, 
At once its ornament and pride. 
The beauteous parent's tender heart 
Had well fulfill'd its pious part ; 
And like the holy man of old, 
As we're by sacred writings told, 
Who, when he from his pupil sped, 
Pour'd two-fold blessings on his head : 
So this fond mother had imprest 
Her early virtues in each breast, 
And as she found her stock enlarge, 
Had stampt new graces on her charge. 

The fair resign'd the calm retreat, 
Where first their souls in concert beat, 
And flew on expectation's wing, 
To sip the joys of life's gay spring ; 
To sport in fashion's splendid maze, 
Where friendship fades, and love decays. 
So two sweet wild flowers, near the side 
Of some fair river's silver tide, 
Pure as the gentle stream that laves 
The green banks with its lucid waves, 
Bloom beauteous in their native ground, 
Diffusing heavenly fragrance round ; 
But should a vent'rous hand transfer 
These blossoms to the gay parterre, 
Where, spite of artificial aid, 
The fairest plants of nature fade, 
Though they may shine supreme awhile 
' Mid pale ones of the stranger soil, 
The tender beauties soon decay, 
And their sweet fragrance dies away. 
Blest spirits ! who, enthron'd in air, 
Watch o'er the virtues of the fair, 
And with angelic ken survey 
Their windings through life's chequer'd way ; 
Who hover round them as they glide 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 237 

Down fashion's smooth deceitful tide, 

And guard them o'er that stormy deep 

Where dissipation's tempests sweep : 

Oh ! make this unexperienc'd pair 

The objects of your tend'rest care. 

Preserve them from the long-drawn sigh ; 

And let it be your constant aim 

To keep the fair ones still the same : 

Two sister hearts, unsullied, bright 

As the first beams of lucid light, 

That sparkled from the youthful sun, 

When first his jocund race begun. 

So when these hearts shall burst their shrine, 

To wing their flight to realms divine, 

They may to radiant mansions rise 

Pure as when first they left the skies. 



MINE UNCLE JOHN. 

To those whose habits of abstraction may have let 
them into some of the secrets of their own minds, and 
whose freedom from daily toil has left them at leisure 
to analyze their feelings, it will be nothing new to say 
that the present is peculiarly the season of remembrance. 
The flowers, the zephyrs, and the warblers of spring, re- 
turning after the tedious absence, bring naturally to 
our recollection past times and buried feelings ; and the 
whispers of the full-foliaged grove fall on the ear of con- 
templation, like the sweet tones of far distant friends 
whom the rude jostles of the world have severed from 
us, and cast far beyond our reach. It is at such times, 
that casting backward many a lingering look, we recall, 
with a kind of sweet-souled melancholy, the days of our 
youth and the jocund companions who started with us 
the race of life, but parted midway in the journey to 
pursue some winding path that allured them with a pro- 
spect more seducing — and never returned to us again. 
It is then, too, if we have been afflicted with any heavy 



238 BEAUTIES OF 

sorrow, if we have even lost — and who has not ? — an 
old friend, or chosen companion, that his shade will 
hover around us ; the memory of his virtues press on the 
heart ; and a thousand endearing recollections, forgotten 
amidst the cold pleasures and midnight dissipations of 
winter, arise to our remembrance. 

These speculations bring to my mind my Uncle 
John, the history of whose loves and disappointments 
I have promised to the world. Though I must own 
myself much addicted to forgetting my promises, yet, 
as I have been so happily reminded of this, I believe I 
must pay it at once, " and then there's an end." Lest my 
readers, good-natured souls that they are ! should in the 
ardour of peeping into millstones, take my uncle for an 
old acquaintance, I here inform them that the old gen- 
tleman died a great many years ago, and it is impossible 
they should ever have known him : — I pity them — for 
they would have known a good-natured, benevolent 
man, whose example might have been of service. 

The last time I saw my uncle John was fifteen years 
ago, when I paid him a visit at his old mansion. I 
found him reading a newspaper — for it was election time, 
and he was always a warm federalist, and had made se- 
veral converts to the true political faith in his time, par- 
ticularly one old tenant, who always, just before the elec- 
tion, became a violent anti, in order that he might be 
convinced of his errors by my uncle, who never failed to 
reward his conviction by some substantial benefit. 

After we had settled the affairs of the nation, and I 
had paid my respects to the old family chronicles in the 
kitchen — an indispensable ceremony — the old gentleman 
exclaimed, with heartfelt glee, " Well, I suppose you are 
for a trout fishing : I have got every thing prepared, but 
first you must take a walk with me to see my improve- 
ments." I was obliged to consent, though I knew my 
uncle would lead me a most villanous dance, and in 
all probably treat me to a quagmire, or a tumble into 
a ditch. — If my readers choose to accompany me in this 
expedition they are welcome ; if not, let them stay at 
home like lazy fellows — and sleep — or be hanged. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 239 

Though I had been absent several years, yet there 
was very little alteration in the scenery, and every ob- 
ject retained the same features it bore when I was 
a schoolboy ; for it was in this spot that I grew up in 
the fear of ghosts and in the breaking of many of the 
ten commandments. The brook, or river as they would 
call it in Europe, still murmured with its wonted sweet- 
ness through the meadow ; and its banks were still 
tufted with dwarf willows, that bent down to the sur- 
face. The same echo inhabited the valley, and the 
same tender air of repose pervaded the whole scene. 
Even my good uncle was but little altered, except that 
his hair was grown a little grayer, and his forehead had 
lost some of its former smoothness. He had, however, 
lost nothing of his former activity, and laughed heartily 
at the difficulty I found in keeping up to him as he 
stumped through bushes, and briers, and hedges ; talking 
all this time about his improvements, and telling what 
he would do with such a spot of ground and such a tree. 
At length, after showing me his stone fences, his fa- 
mous two year old bull, his new invented cart, which 
was to go before the horse, and his Eclipse colt, he was 
pleased to return home to dinner. 

After dining and returning thanks, — which with him 
was not a ceremony merely, but an offering from the 
heart, — my uncle opened his trunk, took out his fishing- 
tackle, and, without saying a word, sallied forth with 
some of those truly alarming steps which Daddy Nep- 
tune once took when he was in a great hurry to attend 
to the affair of the siege of Troy. Trout fishing was 
my uncle's favourite sport ; and though I always caught 
two fish to his one, he never would acknowledge my 
superiority ; but puzzled himself often, and often, to 
account for such a singular phenomenon. 

Following the current of the brook for a mile or two, 
we retraced many of our old haunts, and told a hundred 
adventures which had befallen us at different times. It 
was like snatching the hour-glass of time, inverting it, 
and rolling back again the sands that had marked the 
lapse of years. At length the shadows began to length- 



240 BEAUTIES OF 

en, the south wind gradually settled into a perfect calm, 
the sun threw his rays through the trees on the hill-tops 
in golden lustre, and a kind of Sabbath stillness per- 
vaded the whole valley, indicating that the hour was fast 
approaching which was to relieve for a while the farmer 
from his rural labour, the ox from his toil, the school 
urchin from his primer, and bring the loving plough- 
man home to the feet of his blooming dairy-maid. 

As we were watching in silence the last rays of the 
sun, beaming their farewell radiance on the high hills at 
a distance, my uncle exclaimed, in a kind of half des- 
ponding tone, while he rested his arm over an old tree 
that had fallen — " I know not how it is, my dear Launce, 
but such an evening, and such a still quiet scene as this, 
always makes me a little sad : and it is at such a time I 
am most apt to look forward with regret to the period 
when this farm on which ' I have been young but now 
am old,' and every object around me that is endeared by 
long acquaintance, — when all these and I must shake 
hands and part. I have no fear of death, for my life 
has afforded but little temptation to wickedness ; and 
when I die, I hope to leave behind me more substantial 
proofs of virtue, than will be found in my epitaph, and 
more lasting memorials than churches built or hospitals 
endowed with wealth wrung from the hard hand of po- 
verty, by an unfeeling landlord, or unprincipled knave ; 
— but still when I pass such a day as this, and contem- 
plate such a scene, I cannot help feeling a latent wish 
to linger yet a little longer in this peaceful asylum ; to 
enjoy a little more sunshine in this world, and to have 
a few more fishing matches with my boy. " As he ended 
he raised his hand a little from the fallen tree, and 
drooping it languidly by his side, turned himself towards 
home. The sentiment, the look, the action, all seemed 
to be prophetic. — And so they were, for when I shook 
him by the hand and bade him farewell the next morn- 
ing — it was for the last time ! 

He died a bachelor at the age of sixty- three, though 
he had been all his life trying to get married; and al- 
ways thought himself on the point of accomplishing his 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 241 

wishes. His disappointments were not owing either to 
the deformity of his mind or person ; for in his youth he 
was reckoned handsome, and I myself can witness for 
him that he had as kind a heart as ever was fashioned 
by Heaven ; neither were they owing to his poverty, — 
which sometimes stands in an honest man's way ; for 
he was born to the inheritance of a small estate which 
was sufficient to establish his claim to the title of " one 
well to do in the world." The truth is, my uncle had 
a prodigious antipathy to doing things in a hurry — " A 
man should consider," said he to me once — " that he 
can always get a wife, but cannot always get rid of her. 
For my part," continued he, " I am a young fellow with 
the world before me, (he was about forty ! ) and am 
resolved to look sharp, weigh matters well, and know 
what's what before I marry : in short, Launce, i" don't 
intend to do the thing in a hurry, depend upon it" On 
this whim-wham he proceeded : he began with young 
girls, and ended with widows. The girls he courted 
until they grew old maids, or married out of pure ap- 
prehension of incurring certain penalties hereafter ; and 
the widows not having quite as much patience, gene- 
rally, at the end of a year, while the good man thought 
himself in the high road to success, married some 
harum-scarum young fellow, who had not such an anti- 
pathy to do things in a hurry. 

My uncle would have inevitably sunk under these 
repeated disappointments — for he did not want sensi- 
bility — had he net hit upon a discovery which set all to 
rights at once. He consoled his vanity, — for he was a 
little vain, and soothed his pride, which was his master 
passion, — by telling his friends, very significantly, while 
I his eye would flash triumph, " that he might have had 
\her." Those who know how much of the bitterness 
1 of disappointed aifection arises from wounded vanity 
I and exasperated pride will give my uncle credit for this 
I discovery. 

My uncle had been told by a prodigious number of 
I married men, and had read in an innumerable quantity 
I of books, that a man could not possibly be happy ex- 
x 



242 BEAUTIES OF 

cept in the marriage state ; so he determined at an early 
age to marry, that he might not lose his only chance 
for happiness. He accordingly forthwith paid his 
addresses to the daughter of a neighbouring gentleman 
farmer, who was reckoned the beauty of the whole 
world — a phrase by which the honest country people 
mean nothing more than the circle of their acquaintance, 
or that territory of land which is within sight of the 
smoke of their own hamlet. 

This young lady, in addition to her beauty, was 
highly accomplished — for she had spent five or six 
months at a boarding-school in town, where she learned 
to work pictures in satin, and paint sheep that might be 
mistaken for wolves ; to hold up her head, sit straight 
in her chair, and to think every species of useful ac- 
quirement beneath her attention. When she returned 
home, so completely had she forgotten every thing she 
knew before, that on seeing one of the maids milking a 
cow, she asked her father with an air of most enchant- 
ing ignorance — " what that odd looking thing was doing 
with that queer animal?" The old man shook his 
head at this ; but the mother was delighted at these 
symptoms of gentility, and so enamoured at her daugh- 
er's accomplishments, that she actually got framed a 
picture w r orked in satin by the young lady. It repre- 
sented the tomb of Romeo and Juliet. Romeo was 
dressed in an orange-coloured cloak, fastened round his 
neck by a large golden clasp ; a white satin tamboured 
waistcoat, leather breeches, blue silk stockings, and 
white' topped boots. The amiable Juliet shone in 
flame-coloured gown, most gorgeously bespangled with 
silver stars, a high-crowned muslin cap that reached to 
the top of the tomb ; — on her feet she wore a pair of 
short-quartered high-heeled shoes, and her waist was 
the exact fac-simile of an inverted sugar loaf. The 
head of the " noble county Paris" looked like a chim- 
ney sweep's brush that had lost its handle; and the 
cloak of the good Friar hung about him as gracefully 
as the armour of a rhinoceros. The good lady con- 
sidered this picture as a splendid proof of her daughter's 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 243 

accomplishments, and hung it up in the best parlour, 
as an honest tradesman does his certificate of admission 
into that enlightened body yclept the Mechanic Society. 
With this accomplished young lady, then, did my 
uncle John become deeply enamoured ; and as it was 
his first love, he determined to bestir himself in an ex- 
traordinary manner. Once at least in a fortnight, and 
generally on a Sunday evening, he would put on his 
leather breeches, (for he was a great beau), mount his 
gray horse Pepper, and ride over to see Miss Pamela, 
though she lived upwards of a mile off, and he was 
obliged to pass close by a church-yard, which at least a 
hundred creditable persons would swear was haunted. 
Miss Pamela could not be insensible to such proofs of 
attachment, and accordingly received him with consi- 
derable kindness ; her mother always left the room 
when he came — and my uncle had as good as made a 
declaration by saying one evening, very significantly, 
" that he believed he should soon change his condition ;" 
when, somehow or other, he began to think he was 
doing things in too great a hurry, and it was high time to 
consider ; so he considered near a month about it, and 
there is no saying how much longer he might have spun 
the thread of his doubts, had he not been roused from 
this state of indecision, by the news that his mistress 
had married an attorney's apprentice, whom she had 
seen the Sunday before at church, where he had ex- 
cited the applauses of the whole congregation, by the 
invincible gravity with which he listened to a Dutch 
sermon. The young people in the neighbourhood 
laughed a good deal at my uncle on the occasion ; but 
he only shrugged his shoulders, looked mysterious, and 
replied, " Tut boys ! I might have had her," 



BOOK-MAKING. 

There was one dapper little gentleman in bright co- 
loured clothes, with a chirping gossiping expression of 



244 BEAUTIES OF 

countenance, who had all the appearance of an author 
on good terms with his bookseller. After considering 
him attentively, I recognised in him a diligent getter 
up of miscellaneous works, which bustled off well with 
the trade. I was curious to see how he manufactured 
his wares. He made more stir and show of business 
than any of the others ; dipping into various books, 
fluttering over the leaves of manuscripts, taking a 
morsel out of one, a morsel out of another, " line upon 
line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a 
little." The contents of his book seemed to be as 
heterogeneous as those of the witches' caldron in Mac- 
beth. It was here a finger and there a thumb, toe of 
frog and blind worm's sting, with his own gossip poured 
in, like " baboon's blood," to make the medley " slab 
and good." 

After all, thought I, may not this pilfering disposition 
be implanted in authors for wise purposes ; may it not 
be the way in which Providence has taken care that the 
seeds of knowledge and wisdom shall be preserved 
from age to age, in spite of the inevitable decay of the 
works in which they were first produced ? We see that 
nature has wisely, though whimsically, provided for the 
conveyance of seeds from clime to clime, in the maws 
of certain birds ; so that animals, which, in themselves, 
are little better than carrion, and apparently the lawless 
plunderers of the orchard and the corn field, are, in fact, 
Nature's carriers to disperse and perpetuate her bles- 
sings. In like manner, the beauties and fine thoughts 
of ancient and obsolete authors are caught up by these 
flights of predatory writers, and cast forth again to 
flourish and bear fruit in a remote and distant tract of 
time. Many of their works, also, undergo a kind of 
metempsychosis, and spring up under new forms. What 
was formerly a ponderous history, revives in the shape 
of a romance — an old legend changes into a modern 
play — and a sober philosophical treatise furnishes the 
body for a whole series of bouncing and sparkling 
essays. Thus it is in the clearing of our American 
woodlands ; where we burn down a forest of stately 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 24 

pines, a progeny of dwarf oaks start up in their place : 
and we never see the prostrate trunk of a tree moulder- 
ing into soil, but it gives birth to a whole tribe of 
fungi. 

Let us not, then, lament over the decay and oblivion 
into which ancient writers descend ; they do but sub- 
mit to the great law of nature, which declares that all 
sublunary shapes of matter shall be limited in their 
duration, but which decrees, also, that their elements 
shall never perish. Generation after generation, both 
in animal and vegetable life, passes away, but the vital 
principle is transmitted to posterity, and the species 
continue to flourish. Thus, also, do authors beget 
authors, and having produced a numerous progeny, in a 
good old age they sleep with their fathers, that is to 
say, with the authors who preceded them — and from 
whom they had stolen. 

Whilst I was indulging in these rambling fancies, I 
had leaned my head against a pile of reverend folios. 
Whether it was owing to the soporific emanation from 
these works, or to the profound quiet of the room, or 
to the lassitude arising from much wandering, or to an 
unlucky habit of napping at improper times and places, 
with which I am grievously afflicted, so it was, that I 
fell into a doze. Still, however, my imagination con- 
tinued busy, and indeed the same scene remained before 
my mind's eye, only a little changed in some of the de- 
tails. I dreamt that the chamber was still decorated 
with the portraits of ancient authors, but the number 
was increased. The long tables had disappeared, and 
in place of the sage magi, I beheld a ragged, threadbare 
throng, such as may be seen plying about the great re- 
pository of cast-off clothes, Monmouth Street. When- 
ever they seized upon a book, by one of those incon- 
gruities common to dreams, methought it turned into a 
garment of foreign or antique fashion, with which they 
proceeded to equip themselves. I noticed, however, 
that no one pretended to clothe himself from any parti- 
cular suit, but took a sleeve from one, a cape from 
another, a skirt from a third, thus deckiug himself out 
x 2 



246 BEAUTIES OF 

piecemeal, while some of his original rags would peep 
out from among his borrowed finery. 

There was a portly, rosy, well-fed parson, whom I 
observed ogling several mouldy polemical writers through 
an eye-glass. He soon contrived to slip on the volu- 
minous mantle of one of the old fathers, and having 
purloined the gray beard of another, endeavoured to 
look exceedingly wise ; but the smirking common-place 
of his countenance set at nought all the trappings of 
wisdom. One sickly looking gentleman was busied 
embroidering a very flimsy garment with gold thread 
drawn out of several old court dresses of the reign of 
Queen Elizabeth Another had trimmed himself mag- 
nificently from an illuminated manuscript, had stuck a 
nosegay in his bosom, culled from " The Paradise of 
dainty devices," and having put Sir Philip Sidney's hat 
on one side of his head, strutted off with an exquisite 
air of vulgar elegance. A third, who was but of puny 
dimensions, had bolstered himself out bravely with the 
spoils from several obscure tracts of philosophy, so that 
he had a very imposing front ; but he was lamentably 
tattered in rear, and I perceived that he had patched 
his small-clothes with scraps of parchment from a Latin 
author. 

There were some well dressed gentlemen, it is true, 
who only helped themselves to a gem or so, which 
sparkled among their own ornaments, without eclipsing 
them. Some, too, seemed to contemplate the costumes 
of the old writers, merely to imbibe their principles of 
taste, and to catch their air and spirit ; but I grieve to 
say, that too many were apt to array themselves from 
top to toe, in the patchwork manner I have mentioned. 
I shall not omit to speak of one genius, in drab breeches 
and gaiters, and an Arcadian hat, who had a violent 
propensity to the pastoral, but whose rural wanderings 
had been confined to the classic haunts of Primrose 
Hill, and the solitudes of the Regent's Park. He had 
decked himself in wreaths and ribands from all the old 
pastoral poets, and hanging his head on one side, went 
about with a fantastical lack-a-daisical air, " babbling 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 247 

about green fields." But the personage that most 
struck my attention was a pragmatical old gentleman, 
in clerical robes, with a remarkably large and square, 
but bald head. He entered the room wheezing and 
puffing, elbowed his way through the throng, with a 
look of sturdy self-confidence, and having laid hands 
upon a thick Greek quarto, clapped it upon his head, 
and swept majestically away in a formidable frizzled 
wig. 

In the height of this literary masquerade, a cry sud- 
denly resounded from every side, of " Thieves ! thieves !" 
I looked, and lo ! the portraits about the wall became 
animated! The old authors thrust out, first a head, 
then a shoulder from the canvass, looked down curi- 
ously, for an instant, upon the motley throng, and then 
descended, with fury in their eyes, to claim their rifled 
property. The scene of scampering and hubbub that 
ensued baffles all description. The unhappy culprits 
endeavoured in vain to escape with the plunder. On 
one side might be seen half a dozen old monks, strip- 
ping a modern professor ; on another, there was sad 
devastation carried into the ranks of modern dramatic 
writers. Beaumont and Fletcher, side by side, raged 
round the field like Castor and Pollux, and sturdy Ben 
Johnson enacted more wonders than when a volunteer 
with the army in Flanders. As to the dapper little 
compiler of farragos, mentioned some time since, he had 
arrayed himself in as many patches and colours as Har- 
lequin, and there was as fierce a contention of claimants 
about him as about the dead body of Patroclus. I was 
grieved to see many men, to whom I had been accus- 
tomed to look upon with awe and reverence, fain to 
steal off with scarce a rag to cover their nakedness. 
Just then my eye was caught by the pragmatical old 
gentleman in the Greek frizzled wig, who was scram- 
bling away sore affright with half a score of authors in 
full cry after him. They were close upon his haunches ; 
in a twinkling off went his wig ; at every turn some 
strip of raiment was peeled awav ; until in a few mo- 
ments, from his domineering pomp, he shrunk into a 



248 BEAUTIES OF 

little pursy, "chopp'd bald shot," and made his exit 
with only a few tags and rags fluttering at his back. 

There was something so ludicrous in the catastrophe 
of this learned Theban, that I burst into an immoderate 
fit of laughter, which broke the whole illusion. The 
tumult and the scuffle were at an end. The chamber 
resumed its usual appearance. The old authors shrunk 
back into their picture-frames, and hung in shadowy 
solemnity along the walls. In short, I found myself 
wide awake in my corner, with the whole assemblage 
of book-worms gazing at me with astonishment. No- 
thing of my dream had been real but my burst of laugh- 
ter, a sound never before heard in that grave sanctuary, 
and so abhorrent to the ears of wisdom as to electrify 
the fraternity. 

The librarian now stepped up to me and demanded 
whether I had a card of admission. At first I did not 
comprehend him, but I soon found that the library was 
a kind of literary "preserve," subject to game laws, and 
that no one must presume to hunt there without special 
license and permission. In a word, I stood convicted 
of being an arrant poacher, and was glad to make a pre- 
cipitate retreat, lest I should have a whole pack of au- 
thors let loose upon me. 



A DUTCH SETTLER'S DREAM. 

And the sage OlofFe dreamed a dream — and lo, the 
good St Nicholas came riding over the tops of the trees 
in that selfsame waggon wherein he brings his yearly 
presents to children ; and he came and descended hard 
by where the heroes of Communipaw had made their 
late repast. And the shrewd Van Kortlandt knew him 
by his broad hat, his long pipe, and the resemblance 
which he bore to the figure on the bow of the Goede 
Vrouw. And he lit his pipe by the fire, and he sat 
himself down and smoked ; and as he smoked, the smoke 
from his pipe ascended into the air and spread like a 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 249 

cloud overhead. And the sage OlofTe bethought him, 
and he hastened and climbed up to the top of one of the 
tallest trees, and saw that the smoke spread over a great 
extent of country ; and as he considered it more atten- 
tively, he fancied that the great volume of smoke as- 
sumed a variety of marvellous forms, where in dim ob- 
scurity he saw shadowed out palaces and domes and 
lofty spires, all of which lasted but a moment, and then 
faded away, until the whole rolled off, and nothing but 
the green woods were left. And when St Nicholas 
had smoked his pipe, he twisted it in his hatband, and 
laying his finger beside his nose, gave the astonished 
Van Kortlandt a very significant look; then mounting 
his waggon, he returned over the tree tops and disap- 
peared. 

And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly 
instructed, and he aroused his companions and related 
to them his dream : and interpreted it, that it was the 
will of St Nicholas that they should settle down and 
build the city here. And that the smoke of the pipe 
was a type how vast should be the extent of the city ; 
inasmuch as the volumes of its smoke should spread 
over a vast extent of country. And they all with one 
voice assented to this interpretation excepting Mynheer 
Tenbroeck, who declared the meaning to be that it 
should be a city wherein a little fire should occasion a 
great smoke, or, in other words, a very vapouring little 
city — both which interpretations have strangely come to 
pass. 



THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE. 

In the course of an excursion through one of the remote 
counties of England, I had struck into one of those 
cross roads that lead through the more secluded parts 
of the country, and stopped one afternoon at a village, 
the situation of which was beautifully rural and retired. 
There was an air of primitive simplicity about its in- 



250 BEAUTIES OF 

habitants, not to be found in the villages which lie on 
the great coach roads. I determined to pass the night 
there, and having taken an early dinner strolled out to 
enjoy the neighbouring scenery. 

My ramble, as is usually the case with travellers, soon 
led me to the church which stood at a little distance 
from the village. Indeed, it was an object of some 
curiosity, its old tower being completely overrun with 
ivy, so that only here and there a jutting buttress, an 
angle of grey wall, or a fantastically carved ornament, 
peered through the verdant covering. It was a lovely 
evening. The early part of the day had been dark and 
showery, but in the afternoon it had cleared up ; and 
though sullen clouds still hung over head, yet there was 
a broad tract of golden sky in the west, from which the 
setting sun gleamed through the dripping leaves, and lit 
up all nature into a melancholy smile. It seemed like 
the parting hour of a good Christian, smiling on the 
sins and sorrows of the world, and giving, in the seren- 
ity of his decline, an assurance that he will rise again 
in glory. 

I had seated myself on a half sunken tombstone, and 
was musing, as one is apt to do at this sober-thoughted 
hour, on past scenes and early friends — on those who 
were distant and those who were dead — and indulging 
in that kind of melancholy fancying, which has in it 
something sweeter even than pleasure. Every now 
and then, the stroke of a bell from the neighbouring 
tower fell on my ear ; its tones were in unison with 
the scene, and, instead of jarring, chimed in with my 
feelings ; and it was some time before I recollected, 
that it must be tolling the knell of some new tenant of 
the tomb. 

Presently I saw a funeral train moving across the 
village green ; it wound slowly along a lane ; was lost, 
and re-appeared through the breaks of the hedges, until 
it passed the place where I was sitting. The pall was 
supported by young girls, dressed in white ; and ano- 
ther, about the age of seventeen, walked before, bearing 
a chaplet of white flowers ; a token that the deceased 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 251 

was a young and unmarried female. The corpse was 
followed by the parents. They were a venerable couple 
of the better order of peasantry. The father seemed 
to repress his feelings ; but his fixed eye, contracted 
brow, and deeply furrowed face, showed the struggle 
that was passing within. His wife hung on his arm, 
and wept aloud with the convulsive bursts of a mother's 
sorrow. 

I followed the funeral into the church. The bier 
was placed in the centre aisle, and the chaplet of white 
flowers with a pair of white gloves, were hung over the 
seat which the deceased had occupied. 

Every one knows the soul-subduing pathos of the fu- 
neral service ; for who is so fortunate as never to have 
followed some one he has loved to the tomb ? but when 
performed over the remains of innocence and beauty, 
thus laid low in the bloom of existence — what can be 
more affecting ? At that simple, but most solemn con- 
signment of the body to the grave — " Earth to earth — 
ashes to ashes — dust to dust !" — the tears of the youth- 
ful companions of the deceased flowed unrestrained. 
The father still seemed to struggle with his feelings, 
and to comfort himself with the assurance, that the 
dead are blessed which die in the Lord ; but the mo- 
ther only thought of her child as a flower of the field 
cut down and withered in the midst of its sweetness : 
she was like Rachel, " mourning over her children, 
and would not be comforted." 

On returning to the inn I learnt the whole story of 
the deceased. It was a simple one, and such as has of- 
ten been told. She had been the beauty and pride of 
the village. Her father had once been an opulent far- 
mer, but was reduced in circumstances. This was an 
only child, and brought up entirely at home, in the sim- 
plicity of rural life. She had been the pupil of the 
village pastor, the favourite of his little flock. The 
good man watched over her education with paternal 
care ; it was limited, and suitable to the sphere in which 
she was to move ; for he only sought to make her an 
ornament to her station in life, not to raise her above 



252 BEAUTIES OF 

it. The tenderness and indulgence of her parents, and 
the exemption from all ordinary occupations, had fos- 
tered a natural grace and delicacy of character, that ac- 
corded with the fragile loveliness of her form. She 
appeared like some tender plant of the garden, bloom- 
ing accidentally amid the hardier natives of the fields. 

The superiority of her charms was felt and acknow- 
ledged by her companions, but without envy; for it 
was surpassed by the unassuming gentleness and win- 
ning kindness of her manners. It might be truly said of 
her : — 

" This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever 
Ran on the green-sward : nothing she does or seems, 
But smacks of something greater than herself ; 
Too noble for this place." 

The village was one of those sequestered spots, which 
still retain some vestiges of old English customs. It 
had its rural festivals and holiday pastimes, and still 
kept up some faint observance of the once popular rites 
of May. These, indeed, had been promoted by its pre- 
sent pastor, who was a lover of old customs, and one 
of those simple Christians that think their mission ful- 
filled by promoting joy on earth and good-will among 
mankind. Under his auspices the May-pole stood from 
year to year in the centre of the village green ; on May- 
day it was decorated with garlands and streamers ; and 
a queen or lady of the May was appointed, as in for- 
mer times, to preside at the sports, and distribute the 
prizes and rewards. The picturesque situation of the 
village and the fancifulness of its rustic fetes, would 
often attract the notice of casual visitors. Among 
these on one May-day, was a young officer, whose regi- 
ment had deen recently quartered in the neighbourhood. 
He was charmed with the native taste that pervaded this 
village pageant ; but, above all, with the dawning loveli- 
ness of the queen of May. It was the village favourite, 
who was crowned with flowers, and blushing and smil- 
ing in all the beautiful confusion of girlish diffidence 
and delight. The artlessness of rural habits enabled 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 253 

him readily to make her acquaintance ; he gradually won 
his way into her intimacy, and paid his court to her in 
that unthinking way in which young officers are too apt 
to trifle with rustic simplicity. 

There was nothing in his advances to startle or alarm. 
He never even talked of love ; but there are modes of 
making it more eloquent than language, and which con- 
vey it subtilely and irreristibly into the heart. The 
beam of the eye, the tone of the voice, the thousand 
tendernesses which emanate from every word, and look, 
and action — these form the true eloquence of love, and 
can always be felt and understood, but never described. 
Can we wonder that they should readily win a heart, 
young, guileless, and susceptible ? As to her, she loved 
almost unconsciously ; she scarcely enquired what was 
the growing passion that was absorbing every thought 
and feeling, or what were to be its consequences. She, 
indeed, looked not to the future. When present, his 
looks and words occupied her whole attention ; when 
absent, she thought but of what had passed at their re- 
cent interview. She would wander with him through 
the green lanes and rural scenes of the vicinity. He 
taught her to see new beauties in nature ; he talked in 
the language of polite and cultivated life, and breathed 
into her ear the witcheries of romance and poetry. 

Perhaps there could not have been a passion, between 
the sexes, more pure than this innocent girl's. The 
gallant figure of her youthful admirer, and the splen- 
dour of his military attire, might at first have charmed 
her eye ; but it was not these that had captivated her 
heart. Her attachment had something in it of idolatry. 
She looked up to him as to a being of a superior order. 
She felt in his society the enthusiasm of a mind natu- 
rally delicate and poetical, and now first awakened to a 
keen perception of the beautiful and grand. Of the 
sordid distinctions of rank and fortune she thought no- 
thing ; it was the difference of intellect, of demeanour, 
of manners, from those of the rustic society to which 
she had been accustomed, that elevated him in her opi- 
nion. She would listen to him with charmed ear and 



254 BEAUTIES OF 

downcast look of mute delight, and her cheek would 
mantle with enthusiasm ; or if ever she ventured a shy 
glance of timid admiration, it was as quickly withdrawn, 
and she would sigh and blush at the idea of her compa- 
rative unworthiness. 

Her lover was equally impassioned ; but his passion 
was mingled with feelings of a coarser nature. He had 
begun the connexion in levity ; for he had often heard 
his brother officers boast of their village conquests, and 
thought some triumph of the kind necessary to his re- 
putation as a man of spirit. But he was too full of 
youthful fervour. His heart had not yet been rendered 
sufficiently cold and selfish by a wandering and a dissi- 
pated life : it caught fire from the very flame it sought 
to kindle ; and before he was aware of the nature of his 
situation, he became really in love. 

What was he to do ? There were the old obstacles 
which so incessantly occur in these heedless attach- 
ments. His rank in life — the prejudices of titled con- 
nections — his dependence upon a proud and unyielding 
father — all forbade him to think of matrimony : — but 
when he looked down upon this innocent being, so ten- 
der and confiding, there was a purity in her manners, a 
blamelessness in her life, and a beseeching modesty in 
her looks, that awed down every licentious feeling. In 
vain did he try to fortify himself by a thousand heart- 
less examples of men of fashion ; and to chill the glow 
of generous sentiment, with that cold derisive levity 
with which he had heard them talk of female virtue ; 
whenever he came into her presence, she was still sur- 
rounded by that mysterious but impressive charm of 
virgin purity, in whose hallowed sphere no guilty 
thought can live. 

The sudden arrival of orders for the regiment to re- 
pair to the continent completed the confusion of his 
mind. He remained for a short time in a state of the 
most painful irresolution ; he hesitated to communicate 
the tidings until the day of marching was at hand, 
when he gave her the intelligence in the course of an 
evening ramble. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 255 

The idea of parting had never before occurred to her. 
It broke in at once upon her dream of felicity ; she 
looked upon it as a sudden and insurmountable evil, 
and wept with the guileless simplicity of a child. He 
drew her to his bosom, and kissed the tears from her 
soft cheek ; nor did he meet with a repulse ; for there 
are moments of mingled sorrow and tenderness, which 
hallow the caresses of affection. He was naturally im- 
petuous ; and the sight of beauty, apparently yielding 
in his arms ; the confidence of his power over her ; 
and the dread of losing her for ever ; all conspired to 
overwhelm his better feelings — he ventured to propose 
that she should leave her home, and be the companion 
of his fortunes. 

He was quite a novice in seduction, and blushed and 
faltered at his own baseness ; but so innocent of mind 
was his intended victim, that she was at first at a loss 
to comprehend his meaning, and why she should leave 
her native village, and the humble roof of her parents ? 
When at last the nature of his proposal flashed upon 
her pure mind, the effect was withering. She did not 
weep — she did not break forth into reproach — she said 
not a word — but she shrunk back aghast as from a 
viper ; gave him a look of anguish that pierced to his 
very soul ; and clasping her hands in agony, fled, as if 
for refuge, to her father's cottage. 

The officer retired, confounded, humiliated, and re- 
pentant. It is uncertain what might have been the re- 
sult of the conflict of his feelings, had not his thoughts 
been diverted by the bustle of departure. New scenes, 
new pleasures, and new companions, soon dissipated his 
self-reproach, and stifled his tenderness; yet, amidst 
the stir of camps, the revelries of garrisons, the array of 
armies, and even the din of battles, his thoughts would 
sometimes steal back to the scene of rural quiet and 
village simplicity — the white cottage — the footpath along 
the silver brook and up the hawthorn hedge, and the 
little village maid loitering along it, leaning on his arm, 
and listening to him with eyes beaming with uncon- 
scious affection. 



256 BEAUTIES OF 

The shock which the poor girl had received, ill the 
destruction of all her ideal world, had indeed been cruel. 
Faintings and hysterics had at first shaken her tender 
frame, and were succeeded by a settled and pining me- 
lancholy. She had beheld from her window the march 
of the departing troops. She had seen her faithless 
lover borne off, as if in triumph, amidst the sound of 
drum and trumpet, and the pomp of arms. She strain- 
ed a last aching gaze after him, as the morning sun glit- 
tered about his figure, and his plume waved in the 
breeze : he passed away like a bright vision from her 
sight, and left her all in darkness. 

It would be trite to dwell on the particulars of her 
after- story. It was like other tales of love melancholy. 
She avoided society, and wandered out alone in the 
walks she had most frequented with her lover. She 
sought, like the stricken deer, to weep in silence and 
loneliness, and brood over the barbed sorrow that rank- 
led in her soul. Sometimes she would be seen late of 
an evening sitting in the porch of the village church ; 
and the milk-maids, returning from the fields, would 
now and then overhear her, singing some plaintive ditty 
in the hawthorn walk. She became fervent in her de- 
votions at church ; and as the old people saw her ap- 
proach, so wasted away, yet with a hectic bloom, and 
that hallowed air which melancholy diffuses round the 
form, they would make way for her, as for a thing spi- 
ritual, and, looking after her, would shake their heads 
in gloomy foreboding. 

She felt a conviction that she was hastening to the 
tomb, but looked forward to it as a place of rest. The 
silver cord that had bound her to existence was loosed, 
and there seemed to be no more pleasure under the sun. 
If ever her gentle bosom had entertained resentment 
against her lover, it was extinguished. She was incap- 
able of angry passions ; and in a moment of saddened 
tenderness, she penned him a farewell letter. It was 
couched in the simplest language ; but touching from 
its very simplicity. She told him that she was dying, 
and did not conceal from him that his conduct was the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 257 

cause. She even depicted the sufferings which she had 
experienced ; but concluded with saying, that she could 
not die in peace, until she had sent him her forgiveness 
and her blessing. 

By degrees her strength declined, that she could no 
longer leave the cottage. She could only totter to the 
window, where, propped up in her chair, it was her en- 
joyment to sit all day and look out upon the landscape. 
Still she uttered no complaint, nor imparted to any one 
the malady that was preying upon her heart. She ne- 
ver even mentioned her lover's name ; but would lay 
her head on her mother's bosom and weep in silence. 
Her poor parents hung, in mute anxiety, over this fad- 
ing blossom of their hopes, still flattering themselves 
that it might again revive to freshness, and that the 
bright unearthly bloom that sometimes flushed her 
cheek might be the promise of returning health. 

In this way she was seated between them one Sun- 
day afternoon ; her hands were clasped in their's, the 
lattice was thrown open, and the soft air that stole in, 
brought with it the fragrance of the clustering honey- 
suckle which her own hands had trained round the win- 
dow. 

Her father had just been reading a chapter in the 
Bible : it spoke of the vanity of worldly things, and of 
the joys of heaven : it seemed to have diffused comfort 
and serenity through her bosom. Her eye was fixed on 
the distant village church ; the bell had tolled for the 
evening service ; the last villager was lagging into the 
porch ; and every thing had sunk into that hallowed 
stillness peculiar to the day of rest. Her parents were 
gazing on her with yearning hearts. Sickness and sor- 
row, which pass so roughly over some faces, had given 
hers the expression of a seraph's. A tear trembled 
in her soft blue eye. Was she thinking of her faithless 
lover ? — or were her thoughts wandering to that distant 
church-yard, into whose bosom she might soon be ga- 
thered ? 

Suddenly the clang of hoofs was heard — a horseman 
galloped to the cottage — he dismoimted before the win- 
y2 



258 BEAUTIES OF 

dow — the poor girl gave a faint exclamation, and sunk 
back in her chair ; — it was her repentant lover ! He 
rushed into the house, and flew to clasp her to his bo- 
som ; but her wasted form — her death-like countenance 
— so wan, yet so lovely in its desolation — smote him to 
the soul, and he threw himself in an agony at her feet. 
She was too faint to rise — she attempted to extend her 
trembling hand — her lips moved as if she spoke, but no 
word was articulated — she looked down upon him with 
a smile of unutterable tenderness, — and closed her eyes 
for ever ! 

Such are the particulars which I gathered of this vil- 
lage story. They are but scanty, and I am conscious 
have little novelty to recommend them. In the present 
rage also for strange incident and high-seasoned narra- 
tive, they may appear trite and insignificant, but they 
interested me strongly at the time ; and, taken in con- 
nexion with the affecting ceremony which I just wit- 
nessed, left a deeper impression on my mind than many 
circumstances of a more striking nature. I have passed 
through the place since, and visited the church again, 
from a better motive than mere curiosity. It was a 
wintry evening; the trees were stripped of their fo- 
liage ; the church-yard looked naked and mournful, and 
the wind rustled coldly through the dry grass. Ever- 
greens, however, had been planted about the grave of 
the village favourite, and osiers were bent over it to keep 
the turf uninjured. 

The church door was open, and I stepped in. There 
hung the chaplet of flowers and the gloves as on the day 
of the funeral : the flowers were withered, it is true, but 
care seemed to have been taken that no dust should soil 
their whiteness. I have seen many monuments, where 
art has exhausted its powers to awaken the sympathy 
of the spectator ; but I have met with none that spoke 
more touchingly to my heart, than this simple but de- 
licate memento of departed innocence. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 259 



DOMESTIC SCENE. 

The family meeting was warm and affectionate ; as the 
evening was far advanced, the Squire would not permit 
us to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at 
once to the company, which was assembled in a large 
old-fashioned hall. It was composed of different 
branches of a numerous family connexion, where there 
were the usual proportion of old uncles and aunts, com- 
fortable married dames, superannuated spinsters, bloom- 
ing country cousins, half-fledged striplings, and bright- 
eyed boarding school hoydens. They were variously 
occupied : some at a round game of cards ; others con- 
versing around the fire-place ; at one end of the hall 
was a group of the young folks, some nearly grown up, 
others of a more tender and budding age, fully engrossed 
by a merry game ; and a profusion of wooden horses, 
penny trumpets, and tattered dolls about the floor, 
showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who hav- 
ing frolicked through a happy day, had been carried off 
to slumber through a peaceful night. 



MASTER SIMON. 

The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the 
humours of an eccentric personage whom Mr Brace- 
bridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of 
Master Simon. He was a tight brisk little man, with 
the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped 
like the bill of a parrot ; his face slightly pitted with the 
small pox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost- 
bitten leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quickness 
and vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery of 
expression that was irresistible. He was evidently the 
wit of the family, dealing very much in sly jokes and 
innuendoes with the ladies, and making infinite merri- 
ment by harpings upon oJd themes • which, unfortun- 



260 BEAUTIES OF 

ately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not 
permit me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight 
during supper to keep a young girl next him in a con- 
tinual agony of stifled laughter in spite of her awe of 
the reproving looks of her mother, who sat opposite. 
Indeed, he was the idol of the younger part of the 
company, who laughed at every thing he said or did, and 
at every turn of his countenance. I could not wonder 
at it ; for he must have been a miracle of accomplish- 
ments in their eyes. He could imitate Punch and Judy ; 
make an old woman of his hand, with the assistance of 
a burnt cork and pocket handkerchief; and cut an orange 
into such a ludicrous caricature, that the young folks 
were ready to die with laughing. 



PERSEVERANCE. 

Like as a mighty grampus, who, though assailed and 
buffeted by roaring waves and brawling surges, still 
keeps on an undeviating course ! and though overwhelm- 
ed by boisterous billows, still emerges from the troubled 
deep, spouting and blowing with tenfold violence — so 
did the inflexible Peter pursue, unwavering, his deter- 
mined career, and rise contemptuous above the clamours 
of the rabble. 



A DOLEFUL DISASTER OF ANTHONY 
THE TRUMPETER. 

Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his be- 
loved city, in despite even of itself, he called upon him 
his trusty Van Corlear, who was his right-hand man in 
all times of emergency. Him did he abjure to take his 
war-denouncing trumpet, and mounting his horse, to 
beat up the country, night and day — sounding the alarm 
along the pastoral borders of the Bronx — startling the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 261 

wild solitude of Croton — arousing the rugged yeomanry 
of Weehawk and Hoboeken — the mighty men of battle 
of Tappan Bay* ; — and the brave boys of Tarry town 
and Sleepy hollow — together with all the other warriors 
of the country round about ; charging them one and all, 
to sling their powder horns, shoulder their fowling- 
pieces, and march merrily down to the Manhattoes. 

Now there was nothing in all the world, the divine 
sex excepted, that Anthony Van Corlear loved better 
than errands of this kind. So, just stopping to take a 
lusty dinner, and bracing to his side his junk-bottle, well 
charged with heart-inspiring Hollands, he issued jollily 
from the city gate, and looked out upon what is at pre- 
sent called Broad-way, sounding as usual a farewell 
strain, that rung in sprightly echoes through the winding 
streets of New- Amsterdam — Alas ! never more were 
they to be gladdened by the melody of their favourite 
trumpeter ! 

It was a dark and stormy night when the good An- 
thony arrived at the famous creek (sagely denominated 
Haerlem river) which separates the island of Manna- 
hatta from the main land. The wind was high, the 
elements were in an uproar, and no Charon could be 
found to ferry the adventurous sounder of brass across 
the water. For a short time he vapoured like an im- 
patient ghost upon the brink, and then bethinking him- 
self of the urgency of his errand, took a hearty embrace 
of his stone bottle, swore most valorously that he would 
swim across, en spijt den duyvel (in spite of the devil !) 
and daringly plunged into the stream. — Luckless An- 
thony ! scarce had he buffeted half-way over, when he 
was observed to struggle violently, as if battling with 
the spirit of the waters— instinctively he put his trumpet 
to his mouth, and, giving a vehement blast, sunk for 
ever to the bottom ! 

The potent clangour of his trumpet, like the ivory 



* A corruption of Top«paun ; so called from a tribe of Indians 
which boasted of 150 fighting men. See Ogilvie's History. 



262 BEAUTIES OF 

horn of the renowned Paladin Orlando, when expiring 
in the glorious field of Roncesvalles, rung far and wide 
through the country, alarming the neighbours around, 
who hurried in amazement to the spot. — Here an old 
Dutch burgher, famed for his veracity, and who had 
been a witness of the fact, related to them the melan- 
choly affair ; with the fearful addition (to which I am 
slow of giving belief), that he saw the duyvel, in the 
shape of a huge moss-bonker, seize the sturdy Anthony 
by the leg, and drag him beneath the waves. Certain 
it is, the place, with the adjoining promontory, which 
projects into the Hudson, has been called Spijt den 
duyvel, or Spiking duyvel ever since, — the restless ghost 
of the unfortunate Anthony still haunts the surrounding 
solitudes, and his trumpet has often been heard by the 
neighbours, of a stormy night, mingling with the howl- 
ing of the blast. Nobody ever attempts to swim over 
the creek after dark ; on the contrary, a bridge has been 
built to guard against such melancholy accidents in fu- 
ture — and as to moss-bonkers, they are held in such 
abhorrence that no true Dutchman will admit them to 
his table, who loves good fish, and hates the devil. 

Such was the end of Anthony Van Corlear — a man 
deserving of a better fate. He lived roundly and sound- 
ly, like a true and jolly bachelor, until the day of his 
death; but though he was never married, yet did he 
leave behind some two or three dozen children, in 
different parts of the country — fine chubby, brawling, 
flatulent little urchins, from whom, if legends speak 
true (and they are not apt to lie) did descend the in- 
numerable race of editors, who people and defend this 
country, and who are bountifully paid by the people for 
keeping up a constant alarm, and making them misera- 
ble. Would that they inherited the worth, as they do 
the wind, of their renowned progenitor. 

The Grief of Peter Stuyvesant, 

The tidings of this lamentable catastrophe imparted a 
severer pang to the bosom of Peter Stuyvesant than did 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 263 

even the invasion of his beloved Amsterdam. It came 
ruthlessly home to those sweet affections that grow close 
around the heart, and are nourished by its warmest cur- 
rent. As some lone pilgrim wandering in trackless 
wastes while the tempest whistles through his locks, and 
dreary night is gathering around, sees stretched, cold 
and lifeless, his faithful dog — the sole companion of his 
journeying — who had shared his solitary meal, and so 
often licked his hand in humble gratitude ; — so did the 
generous-hearted hero of the Manhattoes contemplate 
the untimely end of his faithful Anthony. He had 
been the humble attendant of his footsteps — he had 
cheered him in many a heavy hour, by his honest gaiety ; 
and had followed him in loyalty and affection, through 
many a scene of direful peril and mishap. He was gone 
for ever — and that too at a moment when every mongrel 
cur seemed skulking from his side. 



The dignified Retirement and mortal Surrender of Peter 
the Headstrong. 

Thus then have I concluded this great historical en- 
terprise ; but, before Hay aside my weary pen, there yet 
remains to be performed one pious duty. If among the 
variety of readers that may peruse this book, there should 
haply be found any of those souls of true nobility, which 
glow with celestial fire at the history of the generous 
and the brave, they will doubtless be anxious to know 
the fate of the gallant Peter Stuyvesant. To gratify 
one such sterling heart of gold I would go more lengths 
than to instruct the cold-blooded curiosity of a whole 
fraternity of philosophers. 

No sooner had that high-mettled cavalier signed the 
articles of capitulation, than determined not to witness 
the humiliation of his favourite city, he turned his back 
on its walls and made a growling retreat to his Bouwery, 
or country-seat, which was situated about two miles off; 
where he passed the remainder of his days in patriarchal 



264 BEAUTIES OF 

retirement. There he enjoyed that tranquillity of mind 
which he had never known amid the distracting cares of 
government ; and tasted the sweets of absolute and un- 
controlled authority, which his factious subjects had so 
often dashed with the bitterness of opposition. 

No persuasions could ever induce him to revisit the 
city ; on the contrary, he would always have his great 
arm-chair placed with its back to the windows which 
looked in that direction, until a thick grove of trees, 
planted by his own hand, grew up and formed a screen 
that effectually excluded it from the prospect. He 
railed continually at the degenerate innovations and im- 
provements introduced by the conquerors — forbade a 
word of their detested language to be spoken in his 
family, a prohibition readily obeyed, since none of the 
household could speak any thing but Dutch — and even 
ordered a fine avenue to be cut down in front of his 
house, because it consisted of English cherry trees. 

The same incessant vigilance, that blazed forth when 
he had a vast province under his care, now showed itself 
with equal vigour, though in narrower limits. He pa- 
trolled with unceasing watchfulness around the bounda- 
ries of his little territory ; repelled every encroachment 
with intrepid promptness ; punished every vagrant de- 
predation upon his orchard or his farm yard with inflex- 
ible severity ; and conducted every stray hog or cow in 
triumph to the pound. But to the indigent neighbour, 
the friendless stranger, or the weary wanderer, his spa- 
cious door was ever open, and his capacious fire-place, 
that emblem of his own warm and generous heart, had 
always a corner to receive and cherish them. There 
was an exception to this, I must confess, in case the 
ill-starred applicant was an Englishman or a Yankee ; 
to whom, though he might extend the hand of assistance, 
he could never be brought to yield the rites of hospitality. 
Nay, if peradventure some straggling merchant of the 
east should stop at his door, with his cart load of tin 
ware or wooden bowls, the fiery Peter would issue forth 
like a giant from his castle, and make such a furious 
clattering among his pots and kettles, that the vender 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 265 

of " notions" was fain to betake himself to instant 
flight. 

His ancient suit of regimentals, worn threadbare by 
the brush, were carefully hung up in the state bed- 
chamber, and regularly aired the first fair day of every 
month ; and his cocked hat and trusty sword were sus- 
pended in grim repose over the parlour mantlepiece, 
forming supporters to a full length portrait of the re- 
nowned Admiral Von Tromp. In his domestic empire 
he maintained strict discipline, and a well organized de- 
spotic government; but though his own will was the 
supreme law, yet the good of his subjects was his con- 
stant object. He watched over, not merely their im- 
mediate comforts, but their morals, and their ultimate 
welfare ; for he gave them abundance of excellent ad- 
monition, nor could any of them complain, that, when 
occasion required, he was by any means niggardly in 
bestowing wholesale correction. 

The good old Dutch festivals, those periodical demon« 
strations of an overflowing heart and a thankful spirit, 
which are falling into sad disuse among my fellow citi- 
zens, were faithfully observed in the mansion of Gover- 
nor Stuyvesant. New-year was truly a day of open- 
handed liberality, of jocund revelry, and warm-hearted 
congratulation — when the bosom seemed to swell with 
genial good-fellowship ; and the plenteous table was at- 
tended with an unceremonious freedom, and honest 
broad-mouthed merriment, unknown in these days of 
degeneracy and refinement. Paas and Pinxter were 
scrupulously observed throughout his dominions; nor 
was the day of St. Nicholas suffered to pass by without 
making presents, hanging the stocking in the chimney, 
and complying with all its other ceremonies. 

Once a year, on the first day of April, he used to array 
himself in full regimentals, being the anniversary of his 
triumphal entry into New- Amsterdam, after the con- 
quest of New- Sweden. This was always a kind of 
Saturnalia among the domestics, when they considered 
themselves at liberty in some measure to say and do 
what they pleased ; for on this day their master was 



206 BEAUTIES OF 

always observed to unbend, and become exceedingly 
pleasant and jocose, sending the old grey-headed ne- 
groes on April fools' errands for pigeons' milk ; not one 
of whom but allowed himself to be taken in, and hu- 
moured his old master's jokes as became a faithful and 
well disciplined dependant. Thus did he reign, happily 
and peacefully on his own land — injuring no man — 
envying no man — molested by no outward strifes — per- 
plexed by no internal commotions ; — and the mighty 
monarchs of the earth, who were vainly seeking to main- 
tain peace, and promote the welfare of mankind, by war 
and desolation, would have done well to have made a 
voyage to the little island of Manna-hatta, and learned 
a lesson in government from the domestic economy of 
Peter Stuyvesant. 

In process of time, however, the old governor, like all 
other children of mortality, began to exhibit evident 
tokens of decay. Like an aged oak, which, though it 
long has braved the fury of the elements, and still re- 
tains its gigantic proportions, yet begins to shake and 
groan with every blast — so the gallant Peter, though he 
still bore the port and semblance of what he was in the 
days of his hardihood and chivalry, yet did age and in- 
firmity begin to sap the vigour of his frame ; but his 
heart, that most unconquerable citadel, still triumphed 
unsubdued. With matchless avidity would he listen to 
every article of intelligence concerning the battles be- 
tween the English and Dutch. Still would his pulse beat 
high whenever he heard of the victories of De Ruyter ; 
and his countenance lower and his eyebrows knit when 
fortune turned in favour of the English. At length, as 
on a certain day, he had just smoked his fifth pipe, and 
was napping after dinner, in his arm chair, conquering 
the whole British nation in his dreams, he was suddenly 
aroused by a fearful ringing of bells, rattling of drums, 
and roaring of cannon, that put aH his blood in a fer- 
ment. But when he learned that these rejoicings were 
in honour of a great victory obtained by the combined 
English and French fleets over the brave De Ruyter 
and the younger Von Tromp, it went so much to his 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 267 

heart, that he took to his bed, and in less than three 
days was brought to death's door by a violent cholera 
morbus ! But even in this extremity he still displayed 
the unconquerable spirit of Peter the Headstrong ; hold- 
ing out, to the last gasp, with the most inflexible ob- 
stinacy, against a whole army of old women, who were 
bent upon driving the enemy out of his bowels, after a 
true Dutch mode of defence, by inundating the seat of 
war with catnip and pennyroyal. 

While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolu- 
tion, news was brought him, that the brave De Ruyter had 
suffered but little loss — had made good his retreat — and 
meant once more to meet the enemy in battle. The 
closing eye of the old warrior kindled at the words — 
he partly raised himself in bed — a flash of martial fire 
beamed across his visage — he clenched his withered 
hand as if he felt within his gripe that sword which 
waved in triumph before the walls of Fort Christina, 
and, giving a grim smile of exultation, sunk back upon 
his pillow, and expired. 

Thus died Peter Stuyvesant, a valiant soldier, a loyal 
subject, an upright governor, and an honest Dutchman 
— who wanted only a few empires to desolate to have 
been immortalized as a hero ! 

His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the ut- 
most grandeur and solemnity. The town was perfectly 
emptied of its inhabitants, who crowded in throngs to 
pay the last sad honours to their good old governor. 
All his sterling qualities rushed in full tide upon their 
recollections, while the memory of his foibles and his 
faults had expired with him. The ancient burghers 
contended who should have the privilege of bearing the 
pall — the populace strove who should walk nearest to 
the bier — and the melancholy procession was closed by 
a number of gray-headed negroes, who had wintered and 
summered in the household of their departed master for 
the greater part of a century. 

With sad and gloomy countenances, the multitude 
gathered round the grave. They dwelt with mournful 
hearts on the sturdy virtues, the signal services, and the 



268 BEAUTIES OF 

gallant exploits of the brave old worthy. They recalled, 
with secret upbraidings, their own factious oppositions 
to his government — and many an ancient burgher, whose 
phlegmatic features had never been known to relax, nor 
his eyes to moisten, was now observed to puff a pensive 
pipe, and the big drop to steal down his cheek, while 
he muttered, with affectionate accent and melancholy 
shake of the head — " Well den ! — Hard-kopping Peter 
ben gone at last." 

His remains were deposited in the family vault, under 
a chapel, which he had piously erected on his estate, 
and dedicated to St. Nicholas, and which stood on the 
identical spot at present occupied by St. Mark's Church, 
where his tomb-stone is still to be seen. His estate, or 
JBouwery as it was called, has ever continued in the pos- 
session of his descendants ; who, by the uniform integrity 
of their conduct, and their strict adherence to the cus- 
toms and manners that prevailed in the " good old times ," 
have proved themselves worthy of their illustrious an- 
cestor. Many a time and oft has the farm been haunted 
at night by enterprising money diggers, in quest of pots 
of gold said to have been buried by the old governor, 
though I cannot learn that any of them have ever been 
enriched by their researches — and who is there, among 
my native-born fellow citizens, that does not remember, 
when in the mischievous days of his boyhood, he con- 
ceived it a great exploit to rob " Stuyvesant's orchard" 
on a holiday afternoon ? 

At this strong hold of the family may still be seen 
certain memorials of the immortal Peter. His full 
length portrait frowns in martial terrors from the par- 
lour wall — his cocked hat and sword still hang up in 
the best bedroom. His brimstone-coloured breeches 
were for a long while suspended in the hall, until some 
years since they occasioned a dispute between a new 
married couple. And his silver mounted wooden leg 
is still treasured up in the store room as an invaluable 
relique. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 269 



MORNING. 

And now the rosy blush of morn began to mantle in 
the east, and soon the rising sun, emerging from amidst 
golden and purple clouds, shed his blythesome rays on 
the tin weathercocks of Communipaw. It was that 
delicious season of the year, when nature, breaking from 
the chilling thraldom of old winter, like a blooming 
damsel from the tyranny of a sordid father, threw her- 
self, blushing with ten thousand charms, into the arms 
of youthful spring. Every tufted copse and blooming 
grove resounded with the notes of hymeneal love. The 
very insects, as they sipped the dew that gemmed the 
tender grass of the meadows, joined in the joyous epi- 
thalamium, the virgin bud timidly put forth its blushes, 
" the voice of the turtle was heard in the land," and 
the heart of man dissolved away in tenderness. 



THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS HIS- 
TORY OF NEW-YORK. 

I am aware that I shall incur the censure of numerous 
very learned and judicious critics, for indulging too fre- 
quently in the bold excursive manner of my favourite 
Herodotus. And, to be candid, I have found it impos- 
sible always to resist the allurements of those pleasing 
episodes which, like flowery banks and fragrant bowers, 
beset the dusty road of the historian, and entice him to 
turn aside and refresh himself from his wayfaring. But 
I trust it will be found that I have always resumed my 
staff, and addressed myself to my weary journey with 
renovated spirits, so that both my readers and myself 
have been benefited by the relaxation. 

Indeed, though it has been my constant wish and 
uniform endeavour to rival Polybius himself, in observ- 
ing the requisite unity of History, yet the loose and 
unconnected manner in which many of the facts herein 
z 2 



270 BEAUTIES OF 

recorded have come to hand, rendered such an attempt 
extremely difficult. This difficulty was likewise in- 
creased by one of the grand objects contemplated in my 
work, which was to trace the rise of sundry customs and 
institutions in this best of cities, and to compare them 
when in the germ of infancy with what they are in the 
present old age of knowledge and improvement. 

But the chief merit on which I value myself, and 
found my hopes for future regard, is that faithful vera- 
city with which I have compiled this invaluable little 
work ; carefully winnowing away the chaff of hypothe- 
sis, and discarding the tares of fable, which are too apt 
to spring up and choke the seeds of truth and whole- 
some knowledge. Had I been anxious to captivate the 
superficial throng, who skim like swallows over the sur- 
face of literature ; or had I been anxious to commend 
my writings to the pampered palates of literary epicures, 
I might have availed myself of the obscurity that 
overshadows the infant years of our city, to introduce a 
thousand pleasing fictions. But I have scrupulously 
discarded many a pithy tale and marvellous adventure, 
whereby the drowsy air of summer indolence might be 
enthralled ; jealously maintaining that fidelity, gravity, 
and dignity, which should ever distinguish the historian. 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

I rose and prepared to leave the abbey. As I descend- 
ed the flight of steps which lead into the body of the 
building, my eye was caught by the shrine of Edward 
the Confessor, and I ascended the small staircase that 
conducts to it, to take from thence a general survey of 
this wilderness of tombs. The shrine is elevated upon 
a kind of platform, and close around it are the sepulchres 
of various kings and queens. From this eminence the 
eye looks down between pillars and funeral trophies to 
the chapels and chambers below, crowded with tombs ; 
where warriors, prelates, courtiers, and statesmen lie 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 271 

mouldering in their " beds of darkness." Close by me 
stood the great chair of coronation, rudely carved of 
oak, in the barbarous taste of a remote and gothic age. 
The scene seemed almost as if contrived, with theatri- 
cal artifice, to produce an effect upon the beholder. 
Here was a type of the beginning and the end of human 
pomp and power ; here it was literally but a step from 
the throne to the sepulchre. Would not one think that 
these incongruous mementos had been gathered together 
as a lesson to living greatness ? — to shew it, even in the 
moment of its proudest exultation, the neglect and dis- 
honour to which it must soon arrive ; how soon that 
crown which encircles its brow must pass away, and it 
must lie down in the dust and disgraces of the tomb, 
and be trampled upon by the feet of the meanest of the 
multitude. For, strange to tell, even the grave is here 
no longer a sanctuary. There is a shocking levity in 
some natures, which leads them to sport with awful and 
hallowed things ; and there are base minds, which de- 
light to revenge on the illustrious dead the abject ho- 
mage and groveling servility which they pay to the liv- 
ing. The coffin of Edward the Confessor has been 
broken open, and his remains despoiled of their funeral 
ornaments ; the sceptre has been stolen from the hand 
of the imperious Elizabeth, and the effigy of Henry the 
Fifth lies headless. Not a royal monument but bears 
some proof how false and fugitive is the homage of man- 
kind. Some are plundered — some mutilated — some 
covered with ribaldry and insult — all more or less out- 
raged and dishonoured ! 

The last beams of day were now faintly streaming 
through the painted windows in the high vaults above 
me : the lower parts of the abbey were already wrapped 
in the obscurity of twilight : the chapels and aisles 
grew darker and darker : the effigies of the kings faded 
into shadows : the marble figures of the monuments as- 
sumed strange shapes in the uncertain light : the even- 
ing breeze crept through the aisles like the cold breath 
of the grave ; and even the distant footfall of a verger, 
traversing the Poet's Corner, had something strange and 



272 BEAUTIES OF 

dreary in its sound. I slowly retraced my morning's 
walk, and as I passed out at the portal of the cloisters, 
the door, closing with a jarring noise behind me, filled 
the whole building with echoes. 

I endeavoured to form some arrangement in my 
mind of the objects I had been contemplating, but found 
they were already falling into indistinctness and confu- 
sion. Names, inscriptions, trophies, had all become 
confounded in my recollection, though I had scarcely 
taken my foot from off the threshold. What, thought 
I, is this vast assemblage of sepulchres but a treasury 
of humiliation ; a huge pile of reiterated homilies on 
the emptiness of renown, and the certainty of oblivion ! 
It is, indeed, the empire of death ; his great shadowy 
palace ; where he sits in state, mocking at the reliques 
of human glory, and spreading dust and forgetfulness on 
the monuments of princes. How idle a boast, after 
all, is the immortality of a name ! Time is ever silently 
turning over his pages ; we are too much engrossed by 
the story of the present to think of the characters and 
anecdotes that gave interest to the past ; and each age 
is a volume thrown aside to be speedily forgotten. The 
idol of to-day pushes the hero of yesterday out of our 
recollection ; and will, in turn, be supplanted by his 
successor of to-morrow. 



MASTER HENRY HUDSON. 

In the ever memorable year of our Lord, 1609, on a 
Saturday morning, the five and twentieth day of March, 
old style, did that " worthy and irrecoverable discoverer, 
(as he has justly been called), Master Henry Hudson," 
set sail from Holland in a stout vessel called the Half 
Moon, being employed by the Dutch East India Com- 
pany, to seek a north-west passage to China. 

Henry, (or as the Dutch historians call him, Hen- 
drick) Hudson was a seafaring man of renown, who had 
learned to smoke tobacco under Sir Walter Raleigh, 




.Master Robert J&<& 



C.< KSGO 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 273 

and is said to have been the first to introduce it into 
Holland, which gained him much popularity in that 
country, and caused him to find great favour in the eyes 
of their High Mightinesses, the lords states-general, and 
also of the honourable East India Company. He was 
a short, square, brawny old gentleman, with a double 
chin, a mastiff mouth, and a broad copper nose, which 
was supposed in those days to have acquired its fiery 
hue from the constant neighbourhood of his tobacco 
pipe. 

He wore a true Andrea Ferrara tucked in a leathern 
belt, and a commodore's cocked hat on one side of his 
head. He was remarkable for always jerking up his 
breecbj^^pn he gave out his orders, and his voice 
soun£iMs unlike the brattling of a tin trumpet, owing 
to the number of hard north-westers which he had 
swallowed in the course of his seafaring. "" - 

Such was Hendrick Hudson, of whom we have heard 
so^lnuch and know so little ; and I have been thus par- 
ticular in his description, for the benefit of modern paint- 
ers and statuaries, that they may represent him as he 
was ; and not, according to their common custom, with 
modern heroes, make him look like Caesar, or Marcus 
Aurelius, or the Apollo of Belvidere. 

Master Robert Juet. 

As chief mate and favourite companion, the commo- 
dore chose Master Robert Juet, of Limehouse, in Eng- 
land. By some his name has been spelled Chewit, and 
ascribed to the circumstance of his having been the first 
man that ever chewed tobacco ; but this I believe to be 
a mere flippancy ; more especially as certain of his pro- 
geny are living at this day, who write their name Juet. 
He was an old comrade and early school-mate of the 
great Hudson, with whom he had often played truant 
and sailed chip boats in a neighbouring pond, when they 
were little boys ; from whence it is said the commodore 
first derived bis bias towards a seafaring life. Certain 
it is, that the old people about Limehouse declared Ro- 



274 BEAUTIES OF 

bert Juet to be an unlucky urchin, prone to mischief, 
that would one day or other come to the gallows. 

He grew up as boys of that kind often grow up, a 
rambling heedless varlet, tossed about in all quarters of 
the world — meeting with more perils and wonders than 
did Sinbad the sailor, without growing a whit more 
wise, prudent, or ill-natured. Under every misfortune 
he comforted himself with a quid of tobacco, and the 
true philosophic maxim, that " it will be all the same 
thing a hundred years hence." He was skilled in the 
art of carving anchors and true lovers' knots on the 
bulk-heads and quarter-railings, and was considered a 
great wit on board ship, in consequence of his playing 
pranks on every body around, and now and then even 
making a wry face at old Hendrick, when his back was 
turned. 

To this universal genius we are indebted for many 
particulars concerning this voyage, of which he wrote a 
history, at the request of the commodore, who had an 
unconquerable aversion to writing himself, from having 
received so many floggings about it when at school. To 
supply the deficiencies of Master Juet's Journal, which 
is written with true log book brevity, I have availed 
myself of divers family traditions, handed down from 
my great great grandfather, who accompanied the expe- 
dition in the capacity of cabin boy. 

A Dutch Voyage of Discovery, 

Suffice it then to say, the voyage was prosperous and 
tranquil — the crew being a patient people, much given 
to slumber and vacuity, and but little troubled with the 
disease of thinking — a malady of the mind, which is 
the sure breeder of discontent. Hudson had laid in abun- 
dance of gin and sour crout, and every man was allowed 
to sleep quietly at his post unless the wind blew. True 
it is, some slight dissatisfaction was shown on two or 
three occasions, at certain unreasonable conduct of 
Commodore Hudson. Thus, for instance, he forbore 
to shorten sail when the wind was light, and the weather 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 275 

serene, which was considered among the most experi- 
enced Dutch seamen as certain weather breeders, or 
prognostics, that the weather would change for the 
worse. He acted, moreover, in direct contradiction to 
that ancient and sage rule of the Dutch navigators, who 
always took in sail at night, put the helm aport, and 
turned in ; by which precaution they had a good night's 
rest, were sure of knowing where they were the next 
morning, and stood but little chance of running down a 
continent in the dark. He likewise prohibited the sea- 
men from wearing more than five jackets and six pair 
of breeches, under pretence of rendering them more 
alert ; and no man was permitted to go aloft and hand 
in sails with a pipe in his mouth, as is the invariable 
Dutch custom at the present day. All these grievances, 
though they might ruffle for a moment the constitutional 
tranquillity of the honest Dutch tars, made but a tran- 
sient impression ; they eat hugely, drank profusely, and 
slept immeasurably ; and being under the especial guid- 
ance of providence, the ship was safely conducted to 
the coast of America, where, after sundry unimportant 
touchings and standings off and on, she at length, on the 
fourth day of September, entered that majestic bay, 
which at this day expands its ample bosom before the 
city of New- York, and which had never before been 
visited by any European. 



LETTER 

FROM MUSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELI KHAN, 

To Assem Hacchem, principal Slave-driver to his High- 
ness the Bashaw of Tripoli. 

Though I am often disgusted, my good Assem, with 
the vices and absurdities of the men of this country, yet 
the women afford me a world of amusement. Their 



276 BEAUTIES OF 

lively prattle is as diverting as the chattering of the red- 
tailed parrot, nor can the green-headed monkey of Ti- 
mandi equal them in whim and playfulness. But, not- 
withstanding these valuable qualifications, I am sorry 
to observe they are not treated with half the attention 
bestowed on the before-mentioned animals. These in- 
fidels put their parrots in cages, and chain their monkeys ; 
but their women, instead of being carefully shut up in 
harems and seraglios, are abandoned to the direction of 
their own reason, and suffered to run about in perfect 
freedom, like other domestic animals : this comes, As- 
sem, of treating their women as rational beings, and 
allowing them souls. The consequence of this piteous 
neglect may easily be imagined ; — they have degenerated 
into all their native wildness, are seldom to be caught 
at home, and, at an early age, take to the streets and 
highways, where they rove about in droves, giving almost 
as much annoyance to the peaceable people as the troops 
of wild dogs that infest our great cities, or the flights of 
locusts that sometimes spread famine and desolation 
over whole regions of fertility. 

This propensity to relapse into pristine wildness con- 
vinces me of the untameable disposition of the sex, who 
may indeed be partially domesticated by a long course 
of confinement and restraint, but the moment they are 
restored to personal freedom, become wild as the young 
partridge of this country, which, though scarcely half- 
hatched, will take to the fields and run about with the 
shell upon its back. 

Notwithstanding their wildness, however, they are 
remarkably easy of access, and suffer themselves to be 
approached, at certain hours of the day, without any 
symptoms of apprehension ; and I have even happily 
succeeded in detecting them at their domestic occupa- 
tions. One of the most important of these consists in 
thumping vehemently on a kind of musical instrument, 
and producing a confused, hideous, and undefinable up- 
roar, which they call the description of a battle — a jest, 
no doubt, for they are wonderfully facetious at times, 
and make great practice of passing jokes upon strangers. 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 277 

Sometimes they employ themselves in painting little 
caricatures of landscapes, wherein they will display their 
singular drollery in battering nature fairly out of coun- 
tenance — representing her tricked out in all the tawdry 
finery of copper skies, purple rivers, calico rocks, red 
grass, clouds that look like old clothes set adrift by the 
tempest, and foxy trees, whose melancholy foliage, 
drooping and curling most fantastically, reminds me of 
an undressed periwig that I have now and then seen 
hung on a stick in a barber's window. At other times 
they employ themselves in acquiring a smattering of 
languages spoken by nations on the other side of the 
globe, as they find their own language not sufficiently 
copious to supply their constant demands, and express 
their multifarious ideas. But their most important 
domestic avocation is, to embroider, on satin or muslin, 
flowers of a non-descript kind, in which the great art is, 
to make them as unlike nature as possible ; or to fasten 
little bits of silver, gold, tinsel, and glass, on long stripes 
of muslin, which they drag after them with much dig- 
nity whenever they go abroad — a fine lady, like a bird 
of paradise, being estimated by the length of her tail. 

But do not, my friend, fall into the enormous error of 
supposing that the exercise of these arts is attended with 
any useful or profitable result ; believe me, thou couldst 
not indulge an idea more unjust and injurious ; for it 
appears to be an established maxim among the women 
of this country, that a lady loses her dignity when she 
condescends to be useful, and forfeits all rank in society 
the moment she can be convicted of earning a farthing. 
Their labours, therefore, are directed not towards sup- 
plying their household, but in decking their persons, 
and — generous souls ! — they deck their persons, not so 
much to please themselves as to gratify others, particu- 
larly strangers. I am confident thou wilt stare at this, 
my good Assem, accustomed as thou art to our eastern 
females, who shrink in blushing timidity even from the 
glances of a lover, and are so chary of their favours, that 
they even seem fearful of lavishing their smiles too pro- 
fusely on their husbands. Here, on the contrary, the 



278 BEAUTIES OF 

stranger has the first place in female regard, and, so far 
do they carry their hospitality, that I have seen a fine 
lady slight a dozen tried friends and real admirers, who 
lived in her smiles and made her happiness their study, 
merely to allure the vague and wandering glances of a 
stranger, who viewed her person with indifference, and 
treated her advances with contempt. By the whiskers 
of our sublime bashaw, but this is highly flattering to 
a foreigner! and thou mayest judge how particularly 
pleasing to one who is, like myself, so ardent an admirer 
of the sex. Far be it from me to condemn this extra- 
ordinary manifestation of good- will — let their own 
countrymen look to that. 

Be not alarmed, I conjure thee, my dear Assem, lest 
I should be tempted, by these beautiful barbarians, to 
break the faith I owe to the three-and-twenty wives, 
from whom my unhappy destiny has perhaps severed me 
for ever ; — no, Assem, neither time, nor the bitter suc- 
cession of misfortunes that pursue me, can shake from 
my heart the memory of former attachments. I listen 
with tranquil heart to the strumming and prattling of 
these fair sirens ; their whimsical paintings touch not 
the tender chord of my affections ; and I would still 
defy their fascinations, though they trailed after them 
trains as long as the gorgeous trappings which are drag- 
ged at the heels of the holy camel of Mecca, or as the 
tail of the great beast in our prophet's vision, which 
measured three hundred and forty-nine leagues, two 
miles, three furlongs, and a hand's breadth in longitude. 

The dress of these women is, if possible, more eccen- 
tric and whimsical than their deportment ; and they take 
an inordinate pride in certain ornaments which are pro- 
bably derived from their savage progenitors. A woman 
of this country, dressed out for an exhibition, is loaded 
with as many ornaments as a Circassian slave when 
brought out for sale. Their heads are tricked out with 
little bits of horn or shell, cut into fantastic shapes ; and 
they seem to emulate each other in the number of these 
singular baubles, like the women we have seen in our 
journeys to Aleppo, who cover their heads with the en- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 279 

tire shell of a tortoise, and, thus equipped, are the envy 
of all their less fortunate acquaintance. They also de- 
corate their necks and ears with coral, gold chains, and 
glass beads, and load their ringers with a variety of 
rings ; though, I must confess, I have never perceived 
that they wear any in their noses, as has been affirmed 
by many travellers. We have heard much of their 
painting themselves most hideously, and making use of 
bear's grease in great profusion ; but this, I solemnly 
assure thee, is a misrepresentation, civilization, no doubt, 
having gradually extirpated these nauseous practices. It 
is true, I have seen two or three of these females who 
had disguised their features with paint, but then it was 
merely to give a tinge of red to their cheeks, and did 
not look very frightful; and as to ointment, they rarely 
use any now, except occasionally a little Grecian oil for 
their hair, which gives it a glossy, greasy, and, as they 
think, very comely appearance. The last mentioned 
class of females, I take it for granted, have been but 
lately caught, and still retain strong traits of their ori- 
ginal savage propensities. 

The most flagrant and inexcusable fault, however, 
which I find in these lovely savages, is the shameless 
and abandoned exposure of their persons. Wilt thou 
not suspect me of exaggeration when I affirm — wilt not 
thou blush for them, most discreet mussulman, when I 
declare to thee — that they are so lost to all sense of 
modesty as to expose the whole of their faces from their 
forehead to the chin, and they even go abroad with their 
hands uncovered ! — Monstrous indelicacy ! 

But what I am going to disclose will doubtless appear 
to thee still more incredible. Though I cannot forbear 
paying a tribute of admiration to the beautiful faces of 
these fair infidels, yet I must give it as my firm opinion, 
that their persons are preposterously unseemly. In vain 
did I look around me, on my first landing, for those di- 
vine forms of redundant proportions, which answer to 
the true standard of eastern beauty — not a single fat fair, 
one could I behold among the multitudes that thronged 
the streets : the females that passed in review before 



280 BEAUTIES OF 

me, tripping sportively along, resembled a procession of 
shadows returning to their graves at the crowing of the 
cock. 

This meagreness I first ascribed to their excessive 
volubility, for I have somewhere seen it advanced by a 
learned doctor, that the sex were endowed with a pecu- 
liar activity of tongue, in order that they might practise 
talking as a healthful exercise, necessary to their con- 
fined and sedentary mode of life. This exercise, it was 
natural to suppose, would be carried to great excess in 
a logocracy. " Too true," thought I, " they have con- 
verted what was undoubtedly meant as a beneficent gift, 
into a noxious habit, that steals the flesh from their 
bones and the rose from their cheeks — they absolutely 
talk themselves thin !" Judge, then, of my surprise, 
when I was assured, not long since, that this meagreness 
was considered the perfection of personal beauty, and 
that many a lady starved herself, with all the obstinate 
perseverance of a pious dervise, into a fine figure ! 
" Nay more," said my informer, " they will often sacri- 
fice their healths in this eager pursuit of skeleton beauty, 
and drink vinegar, eat pickles, and smoke tobacco, to 
keep themselves within the scanty outlines of the fa- 
shions." — Faugh! Allah preserve me from such beauties, 
who contaminate their pure blood with noxious recipes ; 
who impiously sacrifice the best gifts of Heaven to a 
preposterous and mistaken vanity. Ere long I shall 
not be surprised to see them scaring their faces like the 
negroes of Congo, flattening their noses in imitation of 
the Hottentots, or like the barbarians of Ab-al Timar, 
distorting their lips and ears out of all natural dimen- 
sions. Since I received this information, I cannot con- 
template a fine figure, without thinking of a vinegar 
cruet ; nor look at a dashing belle, without fancying her 
a pot of pickled cucumbers ! What a difference, my 
friend, between those shades and the plump beauties of 
Tripoli, — what a contrast between an infidel fair one 
and my favourite wife, Fatima, whom I bought by the 
hundred weight, and had trundled home in a wheel- 
barrow ! 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 281 

But enough for the present ; I am promised a faithful 
account of the arcana of a lady's toilette — a complete 
initiation into the arts, mysteries, spells, and potions, in 
that whole chemical process by which she reduces 
herself down to the most fashionable standard of insig- 
nificance ; together with specimens of the strait waist- 
coats, the lacings, the bandages, and the various ingeni- 
ous instruments with which she puts nature to the rack, 
and tortures herself into a proper figure to be admired. 

Farewell, thou sweetest of slave-drivers ! The echoes 
that repeat to a lover's ear the song of his mistress, are 
not more soothing than tidings from those we love. Let 
thy answer to my letters be speedy ; and never, I pray 
thee, for a moment, cease to watch over the prosperity 
of my house, and the welfare of my beloved wives. Let 
them want for nothing, my friend, but feed them plen- 
tifully on honey, boiled rice, and water gruel ; so that 
when I return to the blessed land of my fathers, if that 
can ever be, I may find them improved in size and love- 
liness, and sleek as the graceful elephants that range the 
green valley of Abimar. 

Ever thine, 

Mustapha. 



AUTUMNAL REFLECTIONS. 

When a man is quietly journeying downwards into 
the valley of the shadow of departed youth, and begins 
to contemplate in a shortened perspective the end of 
his pilgrimage, he becomes more solicitous than ever 
that the remainder of his wayfaring should be smooth 
and pleasant, and the evening of his life, like the even- 
ing of a summer's day, fade away in mild uninterrupted 
serenity. If haply his heart has escaped uninjured, 
through the dangers of a seductive world, it may then 
administer to the purest of his felicities, and its chords 
vibrate more musically for the trials they have sustained 
— like the viol, which yields a melody sweet in propor- 
tion to its age. 

Aa2 



282 BEAUTIES OF 

To a mind thus temperately harmonized, thus ma- 
tured and mellowed by a long lapse of years there is 
something truly congenial in the quiet enjoyment of our 
early autumn, amid the tranquillities of the country. 
There is a sober and chastened air of gaiety diffused 
over the face of nature, peculiarly interesting to an old 
man ; and when he views the surrounding landscape 
withering under his eye, it seems as if he and nature 
were taking a last farewell of each other, and parting 
with a melancholy smile — like a couple of old friends, 
who, having sported away the spring and summer of life 
together, part at the approach of winter with a kind of 
prophetic fear that they are never to meet again. 

It is either my good fortune or mishap to be keenly 
susceptible to the influence of the atmosphere ; and I 
can feel in the morning, before I open my window, 
whether the wind is easterly. It will not, therefore, I 
presume, be considered an extravagant instance of vain- 
glory when I assert, that there are few men who can 
discriminate more accurately in the different varieties of 
damps, fogs, Scotch mists, and north-east storms, than 
myself. To the great discredit of my philosophy, I 
confess, I seldom fail to anathematize and excommuni- 
cate the weather, when it sports too rudely with my 
sensitive system ; but then I always endeavour to atone, 
therefore, by eulogizing it when deserving of approba- 
tion. And as most of my readers, simple folk ! make 
but one distinction, to wit, rain and sunshine — living 
in most honest ignorance of the various nice shades 
which distinguish one fine day from another — I take 
the trouble, from time to time, of letting them into some 
of the secrets of nature, — so will they be the better 
enabled to enjoy her beauties, with the zest of connois- 
seurs, and derive at least as much information from my 
pages as from the weather-wise lore of the almanack. 

Much of my recreation, since I retreated to the Hall, 
has consisted in making little excursions through the 
neighbourhood, which abounds in the variety of wild, 
romantic, and luxuriant landscape that generally charac- 
terizes the scenery in the vicinity of our rivers. There 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 283 

is not an eminence within a circuit of many miles but 
commands an extensive range of diversified and enchant- 
ing prospect. 

Often have I rambled to the summit of some favour- 
ite hill, and thence, with feelings sweetly tranquil as the 
lucid expanse of the heavens that canopied me, have 
noted the slow and almost imperceptible changes that 
mark the waning year. There are many features pe- 
culiar to our autumn, and which give it an individual 
character : the " green and yellow melancholy" that 
first steals over the landscape — the mild and steady se- 
renity of the weather, and the transparent purity of the 
atmosphere, speak not merely to the senses but the 
heart, — it is the season of liberal emotions. To this 
succeeds fantastic gaiety, a motley dress, which the 
woods assume, where green and yellow, orange, purple, 
crimson, and scarlet, are whimsically blended together. 
— A sickly splendour this ! — like the wild and broken- 
hearted gaiety that sometimes precedes dissolution, or 
that childish sportiveness of superannuated age, proceed- 
ing, not from a vigorous flow of animal spirits, but from 
the decay and imbecility of the mind. We might, per- 
haps, be deceived by this gaudy garb of nature, were it 
not for the rustling of the falling leaf, which, breaking 
on the stillness of the scene, seems to announce, in 
prophetic whispers, the dreary winter that is approach- 
ing. When I have sometimes seen a thrifty young 
oak changing its hue of sturdy vigour for a bright but 
transient glow of red, it has recalled to my mind the 
treacherous bloom that once mantled the cheek of a 
friend who is now no more ; and which, while it seemed 
to promise a long life of jocund spirits, was the sure pre- 
cursor of a premature decay. In a little while, and 
this ostentatious foliage disappears — the close of autumn 
leaves but one wide expanse of dusky brown, save where 
some rivulet steals along, bordered with little stripes of 
green grass — the woodland echoes no more to the carols 
of the feathered tribes that sported in the leafy covert, 
and its solitude and silence are uninterrupted except by 
the plaintive whistle of the quail, the barking of the 



284 BEAUTIES OF 

squirrel, or the still more melancholy wintry wind, 
which, rushing and swelling through the hollows of the 
mountains, sighs through the leafless branches of the 
grove, and seem to mourn the desolation of the year. 

To one who, like myself, is fond of drawing compa- 
risons between the different divisions of life and those 
of the seasons, there will appear a striking analogy which 
connects the feelings of the aged with the decline of the 
year. Often as I contemplate the mild, uniform, and 
genial lustre with which the sun cheers and invigorates 
us in the month of October, and the almost impercep- 
tible haze which, without obscuring, tempers all the 
asperities of the landscape, and gives to every object a 
character of stillness and repose, I cannot help compar- 
ing it with that portion of existence, when the spring 
of youthful hope and the summer of the passions hav- 
ing gone by, reason assumes an undisputed sway, and 
lights us on with bright but undazzling lustre, adown 
the hill of life. There is a full and mature luxuriance 
in the fields that fills the bosom with generous and 
disinterested content. It is not the thoughtless extra- 
vagance of spring, prodigal only in blossoms, nor the 
languid voluptuousness of summer, feverish in its en- 
joyments, and teeming only with immature abundance 
— it is that certain fruition of the labours of the past — 
that prospect of comfortable realities, which those will 
be sure to enjoy who have improved the bounteous 
smiles of Heaven, nor wasted away their spring and 
summer in empty trifling or criminal indulgence. 

Cousin Pindar, who is my constant companion in 
these expeditions, and who still possesses much of the 
fire and energy of youthful sentiment, and a buxom hi- 
larity of the spirits, often indeed draws me from these 
half-melancholy reveries, and makes me feel young 
again by the enthusiasm with which he contemplates, 
and the animation with which he eulogizes the beauties 
of nature displayed before him. His enthusiastic dispo- 
sition never allows him to enjoy things by halves, and 
his feelings are continually breaking out in notes of ad- 
miration and ejaculations that sober reason might per- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 285 

haps deem extravagant. But for my part, when I see 
a hale hearty old man, who has jostled through the 
rough path of the world, without having worn away the 
fine edge of his feelings, or blunted his sensibility to 
natural and moral beauty, I compare him to the ever- 
green of the forest, whose colours, instead of fading at 
the approach of winter, seem to assume additional lustre 
when contrasted with the surrounding desolation. Such 
a man is my friend Pindar ; — yet sometimes, and par- 
ticularly at the approach of evening, even he will fall 
in with my humour ; but he soon recovers his natural 
tone of spirits ; and, mounting on the elasticity of his 
mind, like Ganymede on the eagle's wing, he soars to 
the. ethereal regions of sunshine and fancy. 

One afternoon we had strolled to the top of a high 
hill in the neighbourhood of the Hall, which commands 
an almost boundless prospect ; and as the shadows began 
to lengthen around us, and the distant mountains to 
fade into mists, my cousin was seized with a moraliz- 
ing fit. " It seems to me," said he, laying his hand 
lightly on my shoulder, " that there is just at this season, 
and this hour, a sympathy between us and the world we 
are now contemplating. The evening is stealing upon 
nature as well as upon us ; — the shadows of the open- 
ing day have given place to those of its close ; and the 
only difference is, that in the morning they were before 
us, now they are behind ; and that the first vanished in 
the splendours of noon-day, the latter will be lost in the 
oblivion of night. Our < May of Life,' my dear Launce, 
has for ever fled : our summer is over and gone : — but," 
continued he, suddenly recovering himself arid slapping 
me gaily on the shoulder, — " but why should we re- 
pine ? — What though the capricious zephyrs of spring, 
the heats and hurricanes of summer, have given place 
to the sober sunshine of autumn — and though the woods 
begin to assume the dappled livery of decay ! — yet the 
prevailing colour is still green — gay, sprightly green. 

" Let us then comfort ourselves with this reflection ; 
that though the shades of the morning have given place 
to those of the evening, — though the spring is past, the 



286 BEAUTIES OF 

summer over, and the autumn come, still you and I 
go on our way rejoicing ; and while, like the lofty 
mountains of our Southern America, our heads are co- 
vered with snow, still, like them, we feel the genial 
warmth of spring and summer playing upon our bo- 
soms." 



THE FAMILY OF THE LAMBS. 

The family of the Lambs had long been among the 
most thriving and popular in the neighbourhood : the 
Miss Lambs were the belles of little Britain, and every 
body was pleased when Old Lamb had made money 
enough to shut up shop, and put his name on a brass 
plate on his door. In an evil hour, however, one of 
the Miss Lambs had the honour of being a lady in at- 
tendance on the Lady Mayoress, at her grand annual 
ball, on which occasion she wore three towering ostrich 
feathers on her head. The family never got over it ; 
they were immediately smitten with a passion for high 
life ; set up a one horse carriage, put a bit of gold lace 
round the errand boy's hat, and have been the talk and de- 
testation of the whole neighbourhood ever since. They 
could no longer be induced to play at Pope- Joan or 
blind-man's buff; they could endure no dances but qua- 
drilles, which no body had ever heard of in Little Bri- 
tain ; and they took to reading novels, talking bad 
French, and playing upon the piano. Their brother 
too, who had been articled to an attorney, set up for a 
dandy and a critic, characters hitherto unknown in these 
parts, and he confounded the worthy folks exceedingly 
by talking about Kean, the Opera, and the Edinbro' 
Review. 

What was still worse, the Lambs gave a grand ball, 
to which they neglected to invite any of their old neigh- 
bours ; but they had a great deal of genteel company from 
Theobald's Road, Red-lion Square, and other parts to- 
wards the west. There were several beaux of the bro- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 287 

ther's acquaintance from Gray's Inn Lane and Hatton 
Garden ! and not less than three Alderman's ladies with 
their daughters. This was not to be forgotten or for- 
given. All Little Britain was in an uproar with the 
smacking of whips, the lashing of miserable horses, and 
the rattling and jingling of hackney coaches. The gos- 
sips of the neighbourhood might be seen popping their 
night caps out at every window, watching the crazy ve- 
hicles rumble by ; and there was a knot of virulent old 
crones, that kept a look-out from a house just opposite 
the retired butcher's, and scanned and criticised every 
one that knocked at the door. 

This dance was the cause of almost open war, and 
the whole neighbourhood declared they would have no- 
thing more to say to the Lambs. It is true that Mrs 
Lamb, when she had no engagements with her quality 
acquaintance, would give little hum-drum tea junketings 
to some of her old cronies, " quite," as she would say, 
"in a friendly way." and it is equally true that her in- 
vitations were always accepted, in spite of all previous 
vows to the contrary. Nay, the good ladies would sit 
and be delighted with the music of the Miss Lambs, 
who would condescend to strum an Irish melody for 
them on the piano ; and they would listen with won- 
derful interest to Mrs Lamb's anecdotes of Alderman 
Plunket's family of Port-soken-ward, and the Miss 
Timberlakes, the rich heiresses of Crutched- Friars ; 
but then they relieved their consciences and averted 
the reproach of their confederates, by canvassing at the 
next gossiping convocation every thing that had passed, 
and pulling the Lambs and their rout all to pieces. 

The only one of the family that could not be made 
fashionable was the retired butcher himself. Honest 
Lamb, in spite of the meekness of his name, was a 
rough hearty old fellow, with the voice of a lion, a head 
of black hair like a shoe-brush, and a broad face mottled 
like his own beef. It was in vain that the daughters 
always spoke of him as " the old gentleman," addressed 
him as " papa," in tones of infinite softness, and en- 
deavoured to coax him into a dressing gown and slip- 



288 BEAUTIES OF 

pers, and other gentlemanly habits. Do what they 
might, there was no keeping down the butcher. His 
sturdy nature would break through all their glossings. 
He had a hearty vulgar good-humour that was irrepres- 
sible. His very jokes made his sensitive daughters 
shudder ; and he persisted in wearing his blue cotton 
coat of a morning, dining at two o'clock, and having a 
" bit of sausage with his tea." 

He was doomed, however, to share the unpopularity 
of his family. He found his old comrades gradually 
growing cold and civil to him ; no longer laughing at 
his jokes ; and now and then throwing out a fling at 
"some people," and a hint about "quality binding." 
This both nettled and perplexed the honest butcher ; and 
his wife and daughters, with the consummate policy of 
the shrewder sex, taking advantage of the circumstance, 
at length prevailed upon him to give up his afternoon's 
pipe and tankard at WagstafT's ; to sit after dinner by 
himself and take his pint of port — a liquor he detested 
— and to nod in his chair in solitary and dismal gentility. 

The Miss Lambs might now be seen flaunting along 
the streets in French bonnets, with unknown beaux ; 
and talking and laughing so loud that it distressed the 
nerves of every good lady within hearing. They even 
went so far as to attempt patronage, and actually induced 
a French dancing master to set up in the neighbour- 
hood ; but the worthy folks of Little Britain took fire 
at it, and did so persecute the poor Gaul, that he was 
fain to pack up fiddle and dancing pumps, and decamp 
with such precipitation, that he absolutely forgot to pay 
for his lodgings. 

I had flattered myself, at first, with the idea that all 
this fiery indignation on the part of the community was 
merely the overflowing of their zeal for good old English 
manners, and their horror of innovation ; and I applaud- 
ed the silent contempt they were so vociferous in ex- 
pressing, for upstart pride, French fashions, and the 
Miss Lambs. But I grieve to say that I soon perceived 
the infection had taken hold, and that my neighbours, 
after condemning, were beginning to follow their ex- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 289 

ample. I overheard my landlady importuning her hus- 
band to let their daughters have one quarter at French 
and music, and that they might take a few lessons in 
quadrille. I even saw, in the course of a few Sundays, 
no less than five French bonnets, precisely like those 
of the Miss Lambs, parading about Little Britain. 



FIRST LANDING OF COLUMBUS IN THE 
NEW WORLD. 

It was on the morning of Friday, 12th of October, 
1492, that Columbus first beheld the New World. 
When the day dawned, he saw before him a level and 
beautiful island several leagues in extent, of great fresh- 
ness and verdure, and covered with trees like a continual 
orchard. Though every thing appeared in the wild 
luxuriance of untamed nature, yet the island was evi- 
dently populous, for the inhabitants were seen issuing 
from the woods, and running from all parts to the shore, 
where they stood gazing at the ships. They were all 
perfectly naked, and from their attitudes and gestures 
appeared to be lost in astonishment. Columbus made 
signal for the ships to cast anchor, and the boats to be 
manned and armed. He entered his own boat, richly 
attired in scarlet, and bearing the royal standard ; whilst 
Martin Alonso Pinson, and Vincent Janez his brother, 
put off in company in their boats, each bearing the ban- 
ner of the enterprise, emblazoned with a green cross, 
having on each side the letters F. and I., the initials of 
the Castilianmonarchs Fernando and Isabel, surmounted 
by crowns. 

As they approached the shores, they were refreshed 
by the sight of the ample forests, which in those cli- 
mates have extraordinary beauty of vegetation. They 
beheld fruits of tempting hue, but unknown kind, 
growing among the trees which overhung the shores. 
The purity and suavity of the atmosphere, the crystal 
transparency of the seas which bathe these islands, give 
b b 



290 BEAUTIES OF 

them a wonderful beauty, and must have had their ef- 
fect upon the susceptible feelings of Columbus. No 
sooner did he land, than he threw himself upon his 
knees, kissed the earth, and returned thanks to God 
with tears of joy. His example was followed by the 
rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed with the same 
feelings of gratitude. Columbus then rising drew his 
sword, displayed the royal standard, and assembling 
round him the two Captains, with Rodrigo de Escobido, 
notary of the armament, Rodrigo Sanchez, and the rest 
who had landed, he took solemn possession in the name 
of the Castilian sovereigns, giving the island the name 
of San Salvador. Having complied with the requisite 
forms and ceremonies, he now called upon all present 
to take the oaths of obedience to him as admiral and 
viceroy representing the persons of the sovereigns. 

The feelings of the crew now burst forth in the most 
extravagant transports. They had recently considered 
themselves devoted men hurrying forward to destruc- 
tion ; they now looked upon themselves as favourites of 
fortune, and gave themselves up to the most unbounded 
joy. They thronged around the admiral, in their over- 
flowing zeal. Some embraced him, others kissed his 
hands. Those who had been most mutinous and tur- 
bulent during the voyage, were now most devoted and 
enthusiastic. Some begged favours of him, as of a man 
who had already wealth and honours in his gift. Many 
abject spirits, who had outraged him by their insolence, 
now crouched as it were at his feet, begging pardon for 
all the trouble they had caused him, and offering for the 
future the blindest obedience to his commands. The 
natives of the island, when, at the dawn of day, they 
had beheld the ships, with their sails set, hovering on 
their coast, had supposed them some monsters which 
had issued from the deep during the night. They had 
crowded to the beach, and watched their movements 
with awful anxiety. Their veering about, apparently 
without effort ; the shifting and furling of their sails, 
resembling huge wings, filled them with astonishment. 
When they beheld their boats approach the shore, and 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 291 

a number of strange beings clad in glittering steel, or 
raiment of various colours, landing upon the beach, they 
fled in affright to their woods. Finding, however, that 
there was no attempt to pursue nor molest them, they 
gradually recovered from their terror, and approached 
the Spaniards with great awe ; frequently prostrating 
themselves on the earth, and making signs of adoration. 
During the ceremonies of taking possession, they re- 
mained gazing in timid admiration at the complexion, 
the beards, the shining armour, and splendid dress of 
the Spaniards. The admiral particularly attracted their 
attention, from his commanding height, his air of 
authority, his dress of scarlet, and the deference which 
was paid him by his companions ; all which pointed him 
out to be the commander. When they had still further 
recovered from their fears, they approached the Spa- 
niards, touched their beards, and examined their hands 
and faces, admiring their whiteness. Columbus, pleased 
with their simplicity, their gentleness, and the confi- 
dence they reposed in beings who must have appeared 
to them so strange and formidable, suffered their scru- 
tiny with perfect acquiescence. The wondering savages 
were won by this benignity ; they now supposed that 
the ships had sailed out of the crystal firmament which 
bounded their horizon, or that they had descended from 
above on their ample wings, and that these marvellous 
beings were inhabitants of the skies. 

The natives of the island were no less objects of 
curiosity to the Spaniards, differing, as they did, from 
any race of men they had ever seen. Their appearance 
gave no promise of either wealth or civilization, for 
they were entirely naked, and painted with a variety of 
colours. With some it was confined merely to some 
part of the face, the nose, or around the eyes ; with 
others it extended to the whole body, and gave them a 
wild and fantastic appearance. Their complexion was 
of a tawny or copper hue, and they were entirely desti- 
tute of beards. Their hair was not crisped, like the 
recently discovered tribes of the African coast, under 
the same latitude, but- straight and coarse, partly cut 



292 BEAUTIES OF 

short above the ears, but some locks left long behind 
and falling upon their shoulders. Their features, 
though obscured and disfigured by paint, were agreea- 
ble ; they had lofty foreheads and remarkably fine eyes. 
They were of moderate stature and well-shaped; most 
of them appeared to be under thirty years of age : there 
was but one female with them, quite young, naked like 
her companions, and beautifully formed. 

As Columbus supposed himself to have landed on 
an island at the extremity of India, he called the natives 
by the general appellation of Indians, which was uni- 
versally adopted before the true nature of his discovery 
was known, and has ever since been extended to all the 
aboriginals of the New World. 

The Spaniards soon discovered that these islanders 
were friendly and gentle in their dispositions, and ex- 
tremely simple and artless. Their only arms were 
lances, hardened at the end by fire, or pointed with a 
Hint, or the tooth or bone of a fish. There was no iron 
to be seen among them, nor did they appear acquainted 
with its properties ; for, when a drawn sword was pre- 
sented to them, they unguardedly took it by the edge. 

Columbus distributed among them coloured caps, 
glass beads, hawks' bells, and other trifles, such as the 
Portuguese were accustomed to trade with among the 
nations of the gold coast of Africa. These they re- 
ceived as inestimable gifts, hanging the beads round 
their necks, and being wonderfully delighted with their 
finery, and with the sound of the bells. The Spaniards 
remained all day on shore, refreshing themselves after 
their anxious voyage amidst the beautiful groves of 
the island ; they did not return to their ships until 
late in the evening, delighted with all that they had 
seen. 

On the following morning, at break of day, the shore 
was thronged with the natives, who, having lost all 
dread of what at first appeared to be monsters of the 
deep, came swimming off to the ships ; others came in 
light barks which they called canoes, formed of a single 
tree, hollowed, and capable of holding from one man to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 293 

the number of forty or fifty. These they managed dex- 
terously with paddles, and, if overturned, swam about in 
the water with perfect unconcern, as if in their natural 
element, righting their canoes with great facility, and 
baling them with calabashes. 

The island where Columbus had thus, for the first 
time, set his foot upon the New World, was called by 
the natives, Guanahane. It still retains [the name of 
San Salvador, which he gave to it, though called by the 
English, Cat Island. The light which he had seen the 
evening previous to his making land, may have been on 
Watiing's Island, which lies a few leagues to the east. 
San Salvador is one of the great cluster of the Gucayos, 
or Bahama Islands, which stretch south-east and north- 
west, from the coast of Florida to Hispaniola, covering 
the northern coast of Cuba. 

On the morning of the 14th of October, the admiral 
set off at day-break with the boats of the ships to re- 
connoitre the island, directing his course to the north- 
east. The coast was surrounded by a reef of rocks, 
within which there was depth of water and sufficient 
harbour to receive all the ships in Christendom. The 
entrance was very narrow ; within there were several 
sand banks, but the water was as still as in a pool. 

The island appeared throughout to be well wooded, 
with streams of water, and a large lake in the centre. 
As the boats proceeded, they passed two or three vil- 
lages, the inhabitants of which, men as well as women, 
ran to the shores, throwing themselves on the ground, 
lifting up their hands and eyes, either giving thanks to 
heaven, or worshipping the Spaniards as supernatural 
beings. They ran along parallel to the boats, calling 
after the Spaniards, and inviting them by signs to land, 
offering them various fruits and vessels of water. Find- 
ing, however, that the boats continued on their course, 
many of the Indians threw themselves into the sea and 
swam after them, and others followed in canoes. The 
admiral received them all with kindness and caresses, 
giving them glass beads and other trifles, which were 
received with transport as celestial presents, for the in- 
Bb2 



294 BEAUTIES OF 

variable idea of the savages was, that the white men had 
come from the skies. 

In this way they pursued their course, until they 
came to a small peninsula, which in two or three days 
might be separated from the main land, and surrounded 
with water, and which was, therefore, specified by Co- 
lumbus as an excellent situation for a fortress. On this 
there were six Indian cabins, surrounded by groves and 
gardens as beautiful as those of Castile. The sailors 
being wearied with rowing, and the island not appearing 
to the admiral of sufficient importance to induce colo- 
nization, he returned to the ships, taking seven of the 
natives with him, that they might acquire the Spanish 
language, and serve as interpreters. 

Having taken in a supply of wood and water, they 
left the island of San Salvador the same evening, the 
admiral being impatient to prosecute his discoveries, so 
satisfactorily commenced, and above all, to arrive at the 
wealthy country to the south, which he flattered himself 
would prove the famous island of Cipango. 



ICHABOD CRANE AND THE GALLOPING 
HESSIAN. 

It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, 
heavy-hearted and crest-fallen, pursued his travel home- 
wards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above 
Tarry Town, and which he had traversed so cheerily in 
the afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. 
Far below him the Tappaan Zee spread its dusky and 
indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the tall 
mast of a sloop, riding quietly at anchor under the lane. 
In the dead hush of midnight he could even hear the 
barking of the watch-dog from the opposite shore of the 
Hudson ! but it was so vague and faint as only to give 
an idea of his distance from this faithful companion of 
man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a 
cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off, 




Ichahod Oaneand, tfir Gallvpvng Ifessian, 



FFIJjJ St C? 1829 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 295 

from some farm-house away among the hills — but it was 
like the dreaming sound in his ear. No signs of life 
occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp 
of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bull-frog, 
from a neighbouring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably, 
and turning suddenly in his bed. 

All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard 
in the afternoon, now came crowding upon his recollec- 
tion. The night grew darker and darker; the stars 
seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds 
occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never 
felt so lonely and dismal. He was, moreover, approach- 
ing the very place where many of the scenes of the ghost 
stories had been laid. In the centre of the road stood 
an enormous tulip tree, which towered like a giant above 
all the other trees of the neighbourhood, and formed a 
kind of land-mark. Its limbs were gnarled, and fan- 
tastic, large enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, 
twisting down almost to the earth, and rising again into 
the air. It was connected with the tragical story of the 
unfortunate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard 
by; and was universally known by the name of Major 
Andre's tree. The common people regarded it with a 
mixture of respect and superstition, partly out of sym- 
pathy for the fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly 
from the tales of strange sights, and doleful lamentations 
told concerning it. 

As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to 
whistle; he thought his whistle was answered; it was 
but a blast sweeping sharply through the dry branches. 
As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw 
something white, hanging in the midst of the tree ; he 
paused and ceased whistling ; but on looking more nar- 
rowly, perceived that it was a place where the tree had 
been scathed by lightning, and the white wood laid bare. 
Suddenly he heard a groan — his teeth chattered, and his 
knees smote against the saddle : it was but the rubbing 
of one huge branch upon another, as they were swayed 
about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but 
new perils lay before him. 



296 BEAUTIES OF 

About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook 
crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly wood- 
ed glen, known by the name of Wiley's swamp. A few 
rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over 
this stream. On that side of the road where the brook 
entered the wood, a group of oaks and chesnuts, matted 
thick with wild grape vines, threw a cavernous gloom 
over it. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It 
was at this identical spot that the unfortunate Andre 
was captured, and under the covert of those chesnuts 
and vines were the sturdy yeomen concealed who sur- 
prised him. This has ever since been considered a 
haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of the 
schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark. 

As he approached the stream, his heart began to 
thump ; he summoned up, however, all his resolution, 
gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and at- 
tempted to dash briskly across the bridge ; but instead 
of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a 
lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. 
Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked 
the reins on the other side, and kicked lustily with the 
contrary foot ; it was all in vain ; his steed started, it 
is true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side 
of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes. 
The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel 
upon the starvelling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed 
forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just 
by the bridge with a suddenness that had nearly sent 
his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment 
a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sen- 
sitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, 
on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge 
and misshapen, black and towering. It stirred not, but 
seemed gathered up in gloom, like some gigantic mon- 
ster ready to spring upon the traveller. 

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his 
head with terror. What was to be done ? To turn and 
fly was now too late ; and, besides, what chance was 
there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 297 

could ride upon the wings of the wind ? Summoning up, 
therefore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammer- 
ing accents — " Who are you ?" He received no reply. 
He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. 
Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled 
the inflexible sides of old Gunpowder, and shutting his 
eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervour into a psalm 
tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put him- 
self in motion, and with a scramble and a bound, stood 
at once in the middle of the road. Though the night 
was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown 
might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared 
to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on 
a black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of 
molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of 
the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gun- 
powder, who had now got over his flight and wayward- 
ness. 

Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight 
companion, and bethought himself of the adventure of 
Brom Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quick- 
ened his steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The 
stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. 
Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag 
behind — the other did the same. His heart began to 
sink within him ; he endeavoured to resume his psalm 
tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his 
mouth, and he could not utter a stave. There was 
something in the moody and dogged silence of this per- 
tinacious companion, that was mysterious and appalling. 
It was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a 
rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow 
traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, 
and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck, on 
perceiving that he was headless ! — but his horror was 
still more increased, on observing that the head, which 
should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before 
him on the pommel of the saddle ; his terror rose to 
desperation ; he rained a shower of kicks and blows 
upon Gunpowder, hoping by a sudden movement, to 



298 BEAUTIES OF 

give his companion the slip — but the spectre started 
full jump with him. Away then they dashed, through 
thick and thin; stones flying, and sparks flashing, at 
every bound. Ichabod's flimsy garments fluttered in 
the air, as he stretched his long lank body away over 
his horse's head, in the eagerness of his flight. 

They had now reached the road which turns off to 
Sleepy Hollow ; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed 
with a demon, instead of keeping up it, made an opposite 
turn, and plunged headlong down hill to the left. This 
road leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for 
about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge 
famous in goblin story, and just beyond swells the green 
knoll on which stands the whitewashed church. 

As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful 
rider an apparent advantage in the chase ; but just as he 
had got half way through the hollow, the girths of the 
saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from under him. 
He seized it by the pommel, and endeavoured to hold 
it firm, but in vain; and had just time to save himself 
by clasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when the 
saddle fell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under 
foot by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans 
Van Ripper's wrath passed across his mind — for it was 
his Sunday saddle ; but this was no time for petty 
fears ; the goblin was hard on his haunches ; and (un- 
skilful rider that he was ! ) he had much ado to maintain 
his seat ; sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on 
another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his 
horse's back bone, with a violence that he verily feared 
would cleave him asunder. 

An opening in the trees now cheered him with the 
hopes that the Church bridge was at hand. The waver- 
ing reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook 
told him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls 
of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He 
recollected the place where Brom Bones' ghostly com- 
petitor had disappeared. " If I can but reach that 
bridge," thought Ichabod, " I am safe." Just then he 
heard the black steed panting and blowing close behind 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 299 

him ; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Ano- 
ther convulsive kick on the ribs, and old Gunpowder 
sprung upon the bridge ; he thundered over the resound- 
ing planks ; he gained the opposite side ; and now 
Ichabod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should 
vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. 
Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and 
in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod 
endeavoured to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. 
It encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash — 
he was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpow- 
der, the black steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like 
a whirlwind. 

The next morning the old horse was found without 
his saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly 
cropping the grass at his master's gate. Ichabod did 
not make his appearance at breakfast — dinner-hour came, 
but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the school- 
house, and strolled idly about the banks of the brook ; 
but no schoolmaster. Hans Van Ripper now began to 
feel some uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod, 
and his saddle. An inquiry was set on foot, and after 
diligent investigation they came upon his traces. In 
one part of the road leading to the church, was found 
the saddle trampled in the dirt ; the tracks of horses' 
hoofs deeply dented on the road, and evidently at furi- 
ous speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on 
the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water 
ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate 
Ichabod, and close beside it a shattered pumpkin. 

The brook was searched, but the body of the school- 
master was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, 
as executor of his estate, examined the bundle which 
contained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two 
shirts and a half ; two stocks for the neck ; a pair or 
two of worsted stockings ; an old pair of corduroy 
small-clothes ; a rusty razor ; a book of psalm tunes, 
full of dog's ears ; and a broken pitch-pipe. As to the 
books and furniture of the schoolhouse, they belonged to 
the community, excepting Cotton Mather's History of 



300 BEAUTIES OF 

Witchcraft, a New- England Almanack, and a book of 
dreams and fortune-telling ; in which last was a sheet 
of foolscap much scribbled and blotted in several fruit- 
less attempts to make a copy of verses in honour of the 
heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books and the 
poetic scrawl were forthwith consigned to the flames by 
Hans Van Ripper ; who from that time forward deter- 
mined to send his children no more to school ; observ- 
ing, that he never knew any good come of this same 
reading and writing. Whatever money the schoolmaster 
possessed, and he had received his quarter's pay but a 
day or two before, he must have had about his person at 
the time of his disappearance. 

The mysterious event caused much speculation at the 
church on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and 
gossips were collected in the church-yard, at the bridge, 
and at the spot where the hat and pumpkin had been 
found. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole 
budget of others were called to mind ; and when they 
had diligently considered them all, and compared them 
with the symptoms of the present case, they shook their 
heads, and came to the conclusion that Ichabod had been 
carried off by the galloping Hessian. As he was a 
bachelor, and in nobody's debt, nobody troubled his head 
any more about him ; the school was removed to a dif- 
ferent quarter of the hollow, and another pedagogue 
reigned in his stead. 

It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to 
New- York on a visit several years after, and from whom 
this account of the ghostly adventure was received, 
brought home the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was 
still alive ; that he had left the neighbourhood partly 
through fear of the goblin and Hans Van Ripper, and 
partly in mortification at having been suddenly dismissed 
by the heiress ; that he had changed his quarters to a 
distant part of the country ; had kept school and studied 
law at the same time ; had been admitted to the bar, 
turned politician, electioneered, written for the newspa- 
pers, and finally had been made a justice of the Ten 
Pound Court. Brom Bones too, who shortly after his 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 301 

rival's disappearance, conducted the blooming Katrina 
in triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceed- 
ingly knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was re- 
lated, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the men- 
tion of the pumpkin ; which led some to suspect that 
he knew more about the matter than he chose to tell. 



How Peter Stuyvesant relieved the Sovereign People from 
the Burthen of taking care of the nation ; with sundry 
Particulars of his conduct in Time of Peace. 

The history of the reign of Peter Stuyvesant furnishes 
a melancholy picture of the incessant cares and vexa- 
tions inseparable from government ; and may serve as a 
solemn warning to all who are ambitious of attaining 
the seat of power. Though crowned with victory, en- 
riched by conquest, and returning in triumph to his 
metropolis, his exultation was checked by beholding the 
sad abuses that had taken place during the short inter- 
val of his absence. 

The populace, unfortunately for their own comfort, 
had taken a deep draught of the intoxicating cup of 
power, during the reign of William the Testy; and 
though, upon the accession of Peter Stuyvesant, they 
felt, with a certain instinctive perception, which mobs 
as well as cattle possess, that the reins of government- 
had passed into stronger hands, yet they could not 
help fretting, and chaffing, and champing on the bit in 
restive silence. 

It seems by some strange and inscrutable fatality, to 
be the destiny of most countries (and more especially of 
your enlightened republics), always to be governed by 
the most incompetent man in the nation ; so that you 
will scarcely find an individual throughout the whole 
community, but who will detect to you innumerable 
errors in administration, and convince you in the end, 
that had he been at the head of affairs, matters would 
have gone on a thousand times more prosperously. 
c c 



302 BEAUTIES OF 

Strange ! that government, which seems to be so gene- 
rally understood, should invariably be so erroneously 
administered — strange, that the talent of legislation, so 
prodigally bestowed, should be denied to the only man 
in the nation to whose station it is requisite ! 

Thus it was in the present instance, not a man of all 
the herd of psuedo-politicians in New Amsterdam, but 
was an oracle on topics of state, and could have di- 
rected public affairs incomparably better than Peter 
Stuyvesant. But so severe was the old governor in his 
disposition that he would never suffer one of the mul- 
titude of able counsellors by whom he was surrounded, 
to intrude his advice, and save the country from destruc- 
tion. 

Scarcely, therefore, had he departed on his expedi- 
tion against the Swedes than the old factions of William 
Kieft's reign began to thrust their heads above water, 
and to gather together in political meetings, to discuss 
" the state of the nation." At these assemblages the 
busy burgomasters and their officious schepens made 
a very considerable figure. These worthy dignitaries 
were no longer the fat, well-fed, tranquil magistrates, 
that presided in the peaceful days of Wouter Van 
Twiller. On the contrary, being elected by the peo- 
ple, they formed in a manner a sturdy bulwark between 
the mob and the administration. They were great 
candidates for popularity, and strenuous advocates for 
the rights of the rabble ; resembling in disinterested 
zeal the wide-mouthed tribunes of ancient Rome, or those 
virtuous patriots of modern days, emphatically denomi- 
nated "the friends of the people." 

Under the tuition of these profound politicians, it is 
astonishing how suddenly enlightened the swinish mul- 
titude became, in matters above their comprehensions. 
Cobblers, tinkers, and tailors, all at once felt themselves 
inspired, like those religious idiots, in the glorious times 
of monkish illumination, and, without any previous 
study or experience, became instantly capable of direct- 
ing all the movements of government. Nor must I 
neglect to mention a number of superannuated, wrong- 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 303 

headed old burghers, who had come over when boys, in 
the crew of the Goede Vrouw, and were held up as in- 
fallible oracles by the enlightened mob. To suppose 
that a man who had helped to discover a country did 
not know how it ought to be governed was preposter- 
ous in the extreme. It would have been deemed as 
much a heresy as, at the present day, to question the 
political talents and universal infallibility of our old 
"heroes of 76" — and to doubt that he who had fought 
for a government, however stupid he might naturally be, 
was not competent to fill any station under it. 

But as Peter Stuyvesant had a singular inclination to 
govern his province without the assistance of his sub- 
jects, he felt highly incensed on his return to find the 
factious appearance they had assumed during his ab- 
sence. His first measure, therefore, was to restore 
perfect order, by prostrating the dignity of the sove- 
reign people. 

He accordingly watched his opportunity, and one 
evening when the enlightened mob was gathered toge- 
ther, listening to a patriotic speech from an inspired cob- 
bler, the intrepid Peter, like his great namesake of all 
the Russias, all at once appeared among them, with a 
countenance sufficient to petrify a millstone. The whole 
meeting was thrown into consternation — the orator 
seemed to have received a paralytic stroke in the very 
middle of a sublime sentence, and stood aghast with 
open mouth and trembling knees, whilst the words hor- 
ror ! tyranny ! liberty ! rights ! taxes ! death ! destruc- 
tion ! and a deluge of other patriotic phrases came 
roaring from his throat, before he had power to close 
his lips. The shrewd Peter took no notice of the 
skulking throng around him, but advancing to the brawl- 
ing bully ruffian, and drawing out a huge silver watch, 
which might have served in times of yore as a town- 
clock, and which is still retained by his descendants as 
a family curiosity, requested the orator to mend it, and 
set it going, The orator humbly confessed it was ut- 
terly out of his power, as he was unacquainted with the 
nature of its construction. " Nay, but," said Peter, 



304 BEAUTIES OF 

" try your ingenuity, man : you see all the springs and 
wheels, and how easily the clumsiest hand may stop it, 
and pull it to pieces, and why should it not be equally 
easy to regulate as to stop it ?" The orator declared 
that his trade w T as wholly different, he was a poor cob- 
bler, and had never meddled with a watch in his life. 
That there were men skilled in the art, whose business 
it was to attend to those matters ; but for his part he 
should only mar the workmanship, and put the whole 
in confusion — " Why, harkee, master of mine," cried 
Peter, turning suddenly upon him, with a countenance 
that almost petrified the patcher of shoes into a perfect 
lapstone — " dost thou pretend to meddle with the move- 
ments of government — to regulate and correct, and 
patch, and cobble, a complicated machine, the princi- 
ples of which are above thy comprehension, and its 
simplest operations too subtle for thy understanding, 
when thou canst not correct a trifling error in a com- 
mon piece of mechanism, the whole mystery of which 
is open to thy inspection ? — Hence with thee to the 
leather and stone, which are emblems of thy head; 
cobble thy shoes, and confine thyself to the vocation for 
which heaven has fitted thee — But," elevating his voice 
until it made the welkin ring, " if ever I catch thee, or 
any of thy tribe, meddling again with the affairs of go- 
vernment — by St. Nicholas, but I'll have every mother's 
bastard of ye flea'd alive, and your hides stretched for 
drum-heads, that ye may thenceforth make a noise to 
some purpose !" 

This threat, and the tremendous voice in which it 
was uttered, caused the whole multitude to quake with 
fear. The hair of the orator rose on his head like his 
own swine's bristles, and not a knight of the thimble 
present but his heart died within him, and he felt as 
though he could have verily escaped through the eye of 
a needle. 

But though this measure produced the desired effect 
in reducing the community to order, yet it tended to 
injure the popularity of the great Peter among the en- 
lightened vulgar. Many accused him of entertaining 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 305 

highly aristocratic sentiments, and of leaning too much 
in favour of the patricians. Indeed there appeared to 
be some grounds for such an accusation, as he always 
carried himself with a very lofty soldier-like port, and 
was somewhat particular in his dress ; dressing himself, 
when not in uniform, in simple but rich apparel ; and 
was especially noted for having his sound leg (which 
was a very comely one,) always arrayed in a red stock- 
ing and high-heeled shoe. Though a man of great sim- 
plicity of manners, yet there was something about him 
that repelled rude familiarity, while it encouraged frank, 
and even social intercourse. 

He likewise observed some appearance of court cere- 
mony and etiquette. He received the common class 
of visitors on the stoop,* before his door, according to 
the custom of our Dutch ancestors. But when visitors 
were formally received in his parlour, it was expected 
they would appear in clean linen ; by no means to be 
bare footed, and always to take their hats off. On pub- 
lic occasions he appeared with great pomp of equippage 
(for, in truth, his station required a little show and dig- 
nity,) and always rode to church in a yellow waggon 
with flaming red wheels. 

These symptoms of state and ceremony occasioned 
considerable discontent among the vulgar. They had 
been accustomed to find easy access to their former go- 
vernors, and in particular had lived on terms of extreme 
familiarity with William the Testy. They therefore 
were very impatient of these dignified precautions, 
which discouraged intrusion. But Peter Stuyvesant 
had his own way of thinking in these matters, and was 
a staunch upholder of the dignity of office. 

He always maintained that government to be the 
least popular, which is most open to popular access and 
control ; and that the very brawlers against court cere- 
mony, and the reserve of men in power, would soon 



* Properly spelled stoeb ; the porch commonly built in front of 
Dutch houses, with benches on each side. 
c c 2 



306 BEAUTIES OF 

despise rulers among whom they found even themselves 
to be of consequence. Such, at least, had been the 
case with the administration of William the Testy; 
who, bent on making himself popular, had listened to 
every man's advice, suffered every person to have ad- 
mittance to his person at all hours ; and, in a word, 
treated every one as his thorough equal. By this means 
every scrub politician and public busybody was enabled 
to measure wits with him, and to find out the true di- 
mensions, not only of his person, but his mind And 

what great man can stand such scrutiny? 

It is the mystery that envelopes great men, that gives 
them half their greatness. We are always inclined to 
think highly of those who hold themselves aloof from 
our examinations ; there is likewise a kind of supersti- 
tious reverence for office, which leads us to exaggerate 
the merits and abilities of men of power, and to suppose 
that they must be constituted different from other men. 
And, indeed, faith is as necessary in politics as in reli- 
gion. It certainly is of the first importance, that a 
country should be governed by wise men ; but then it is 
almost equally important, that the people should believe 
them to be wise ; for this belief alone can produce wil- 
ling subordination. 

To keep up, therefore, this desirable confidence in 
riders, the people should be allowed to see as little of 
them as possible. He who gains access to cabinets soon 
finds out by what foolishness the world is governed. 
He discovers that there is a quackery in legislation, as 
well as in every thing else ; that many a measure, which 
is supposed by the million to be the result of great wis- 
dom and deep deliberation, is the effect of mere chance, 
or perhaps of hair-brained experiment — That rulers 
have their whims and errors as well as other men, and 
after all are not so wonderfully superior to their fellow 
creatures as he at first imagined ; since he finds that 
even his own opinions have had some weight with them. 
Thus awe subsides into confidence, confidence inspires 
familiarity, and familiarity produces contempt. Peter 
Stuy vesant, on the contrary, by conducting himself with 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 307 

dignity and loftiness, was looked up to with great reve- 
rence. As he never gave his reasons for any thing he 
did, the public always gave him credit for very profound 
ones. Every movement, however intrinsically unimpor- 
tant, was a matter of speculation ; and his very red stock- 
ing excited some respect, as being different from the 
stockings of other men. 

To these times we may refer the rise of family pride 
and aristocratic distinctions ;* and indeed I cannot but 
look back with reverence to the early planting of those 
mighty Dutch families, which have taken such vigorous 
root, and branched out so luxuriantly in our state. The 
blood which has flowed down uncontaminated through 
a succession of steady, virtuous generations, since the 
times of the patriarchs of Communipaw, must certainly 
be pure and worthy. And if so, then are the Van 
Rensellaers, the Van Zandts, the Van Homes, the 
Rutgers, the Bensons, the Brinkerhoffs, the Skermer- 
horns, and all the true descendants of the ancient Pa- 
vonians, the only legitimate nobility and real lords of 
the soil. 

I have been led to mention thus particularly the well 
authenticated claims of our genuine Dutch families, be- 
cause I have noticed, with great sorrow and vexation, 
that they have been somewhat elbowed aside in latter 
days, by foreign intruders. It is really astonishing to 
behold how many great families have sprung up of late 
years, who pride themselves excessively on the score of 
ancestry. Thus he who can look up to his father with- 
out humiliation, assumes not a little importance — he 
who can safely talk of his grandfather is still more vain- 
glorious — but he who can look back to his great grand- 
father without blushing, is absolutely intolerable in his 
pretensions to family Bless us ! what a piece of work 



* In a work published many years after the time here treated of, 
(in 1761, by C. W. A. M.) it is mentioned that Frederick Philipse 
was counted the richest Mynheer in New-York, and was said to have 
whole hogsheads of Indian money or wampum; and had a son and 
daughter, who, according to the Dutch custom, should divide it 
equally. 



308 BEAUTIES OF 

is here, between these mushrooms of an hour and these 
mushrooms of a day ! 

But from what I have recounted in the former part 
of this chapter, I would not have my reader imagine 
that the great Peter was a tyrannical governor, ruling 
his subjects with a rod of iron — on the contrary, where 
the dignity of authority was not implicated, he abounded 
with generosity and courteous condescension. In fact 
he really believed, though I fear my more enlightened 
republican readers will consider it a proof of his igno- 
rance and illiberality, that in preventing the cup of so- 
cial life from being dashed with the intoxicating ingre- 
dient of politics, he prompted the tranquillity and hap- 
piness of the people — and by detaching their minds from 
subjects which they could not understand, and which 
only tended to inflame their passions, he enabled them 
to attend more faithfully and industriously to their pro- 
per callings ; becoming more useful citizens and more 
attentive to their families and fortunes. 

So far from having any unreasonable austerity, he 
delighted to see the poor and the labouring man rejoice, 
and for this purpose was a great promoter of holidays 
and public amusements. Under his reign was first in- 
troduced the custom of cracking eggs at Paas or Easter. 
New- Year's Day was also observed with extravagant 
festivity, and ushered in by the ringing of bells and 
filing of guns. Every house was a temple to the jolly 
god. Oceans of cherry-brandy, true Hollands, and 
mulled cider, were set afloat on the occasion ; and not 
a poor man in town but made it a point to get drunk, 
out of a principle of pure economy — taking in liquor 
enough to serve him for half a year afterwards. 

It would have done one's heart good also to have seen 
the valiant Peter, seated among the old burghers and 
their wives of a Saturday afternoon, under the great 
trees that spread their shade over the Battery, watching 
the young men and women as they danced on the green. 
Here he would smoke his pipe, crack his joke, and for- 
get the rugged toils of war in the sweet oblivious festi- 
vities of peace. He would occasionally give a nod of 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 309 

approbation to those of the young men who shuffled and 
kicked most vigorously, and now and then gave a 
hearty smack, in all honesty of soul, to the buxom lass 
that held out longest, and tired down all her competi- 
tors, which she considered as infallible proofs of her 
being the best dancer. Once, it is true, the harmony 
of the meeting was rather interrupted. A young vrouw, 
of great figure in the gay world, and who, having lately 
come from Holland, of course led the fashions in the 
city, made her appearance in not more than half a dozen 
petticoats, and these, too, of most alarming shortness. 
— A universal whisper ran through the assembly ; the 
old ladies all felt shocked in the extreme, the young 
ladies blushed and felt excessively for the " poor thing," 
and even the governor himself was observed to be a little 
troubled in mind. To complete the astonishment of 
the good folks, she undertook, in the course of a jig, to 
describe some astonishing figures in algebra, which she 
had learned from a dancing master in Rotterdam — 
Whether she was too animated in flourishing her feet, 
or whether some vagabond Zephyr took the liberty of 
obtruding his services, certain it is, that in the course 
of a grand evolution which would not have disgraced a 
modern ball room, she made a most unexpected display 
— whereat the whole assembly was thrown into great 
admiration, several grave country members were not a 
little moved, and the good Peter himself, who was a 
man of unparalleled modesty, felt himself grievously 
scandalized. 

The shortness of the female dresses, which had con- 
tinued in fashion ever since the days of William Kieft, 
had long offended his eye ; and though extremely averse 
to meddling with the petticoats of the ladies, yet he im- 
mediately recommended that every one should be fur- 
nished with a flounce to the bottom. He likewise or- 
dered that the ladies, and indeed the gentlemen, should 
use no other step in dancing than shuffle and turn, and 
double trouble ; and forbade, under pain of his high dis- 
pleasure, any young lady thenceforth to attempt what 
was termed, " exhibiting the graces." 



310 BEAUTIES OF 

These were the only restrictions he ever imposed upon 
the sex ; and these were considered by them as tyran- 
nical oppressions, and resisted with that becoming spirit 
always manifested by the gentle sex whenever their pri- 
vileges are invaded. In fact, Peter Stuyvesant plainly 
perceived, that if he attempted to push the matter any 
farther, there was danger of their leaving off petticoats 
altogether ; so, like a wise man, experienced in the ways 
of women, he held his peace, and suffered them ever 
after to wear their petticoats and cut their capers as 
high as they pleased. 



Showing the great Difficulty Philosophers have had in 
peopling America — and how the Aborigines came to be 
begotten by Accident, to the great Belief and Satisfac- 
tion of the Author. 

The next inquiry at which we arrive in the regular 
course of our history, is to ascertain, if possible, how 
this country was originally peopled ; a point fruitful of 
incredible embarrassments ; for unless we prove that 
the aborigines did absolutely come from somewhere, it 
will be immediately asserted in this age of scepticism, 
that they did not come at all ; and if they did not come 
at all, then was this country never populated — a conclu- 
sion perfectly agreeable to the rules of logic, but wholly 
irreconcilable to every feeling of humanity, inasmuch as 
it must syllogistically prove fatal to the innumerable 
aborigines of this populous region. 

To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from logical 
annihilation so many millions of fellow creatures, how 
many wings of geese have been plundered ! what oceans 
of ink have been benevolently drained ! and how many 
capacious heads of learned historians have been addled 
and for ever confounded! I pause with reverential 
awe, when I contemplate the ponderous tomes in diffe- 
rent languages, with which they have endeavoured to 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 311 

solve this question, so important to the happiness of 
society, but so involved in clouds of impenetrable ob- 
scurity. Historian after historian has engaged in the 
endless circle of hypothetical argument, and after lead- 
ing us a weary chase through octavos, quartos, and folios, 
has let us out, at the end of his work, just as wise as 
we were at the beginning. It was doubtless some phi- 
losophical mid-goose chase of the kind, that made the 
old poet Macrobius rail in such a passion at curiosity, 
which he anathematizes most heartily as " an irksome, 
agonizing care, a superstitious industry about unprofit- 
able things, an itching humour to see what is not to be 
seen, and to be doing what signifies nothing when it is 
done." But to proceed -. 

Of the claims of the children of Noah to the original 
population of this country I shall say nothing, as they 
have already been touched upon in my last chapter. 
The claimants next in celebrity are the descendants of 
Abraham. Thus Christoval Colon, (vulgarly called 
Colombus,) when he first discovered the gold mines of 
Hispaniola, immediately concluded, with a shrewdness 
that would have done honour to a philosopher, that he 
had found the ancient Ophir, from whence Solomon 
procured the gold for embellishing the temple at Jeru- 
salem : nay, Colon even imagined that he saw the re- 
mains of furnaces, of veritable Hebraic construction, 
employed in refining the precious ore. 

So golden a conjecture, tinctured with such fascinat- 
ing extravagance, was too tempting not to be immedi- 
ately snapped at by the gudgeons of learning ; and ac- 
cordingly, there were divers profound writers, ready to 
swear to its correctness, and to bring in their usual load 
of authorities and wise surmises wherewithal to prop it 
up. Vatablus and Robertus Stephens declared nothing 
could be more clear : Arius Montanus, without the 
least hesitaion, asserts that Mexico was the true Ophir, 
and the Jews the early settlers of the country : while 
Possevin, Becan, and several other sagacious writers, 
lug in a supposed prophecy of the fourth book of Es- 
dras, which being inserted in the mighty hypothesis, 



312 BEAUTIES OF 

like the key-stone of an arch, gives it in their opinion 
perpetual durability. 

Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly 
superstructure, than in trudges a phalanx of opposite 
authors, with Hans de Laet, the great Dutchman, at 
their head ; and at one blow tumbles the whole fabric 
about their ears. Hans, in fact, contradicts outright 
all the Israelitish claims to the first settlements of this 
country, attributing all those equivocal symptoms, and 
traces of Christianity and Judaism, which have been 
said to be found in divers provinces of the New World, 
to the Devil, who has always affected to counterfeit the 
worship of the true Deity. "A remark," says the 
knowing old Padre d' Acosta, " made by all good authors 
who have spoken of the religion of nations newly dis- 
covered, and founded besides on the authority of the 
fathers of the church," 

Some writers again, among whom it is with great 
regret I am compelled to mention Lopez de Gomora 
and Juan de Leri, insinuate that the Canaanites, being 
driven from the land of promise by the Jews, were 
seized with such a panic that they fled, without looking 
behind them, until stopping to take breath, they found 
themselves safe in America. As they brought neither 
their national language, manners, nor features with them, 
it is supposed they left them behind in the hurry of their 
flight. I cannot give my faith to this opinion. 

I pass over the supposition of the learned Grotius, 
who being both an ambassador and a Dutchman to boot, 
is entitled to great respect : that North America was 
peopled by a strolling company of Norwegians, and that 
Peru was founded by a colony from China — Manco, or 
Mungo Capac, the first Inca, being himself a Chinese. 
Nor shall I more than barely mention, that father Kir- 
cher ascribes the settlement of America to the Egyptians, 
Budbeck to the Scandinavians, Charron to the Gauls, 
JufFredus Petri to a skating party from Friesland, Mi- 
lius to the Celtae, Marinocus the Sicilian to the Romans, 
Le Comte to the Phoenicians, Postel to the Moors, 
Martin d'Angleriatothe Abysinians, together with the 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 313 

sage surmise of De Laet, that England, Ireland, and 
the Orcades may contend for that honour. 

Nor will I bestow any more attention or credit to 
the idea that America is the fairy region of Zipangri, 
described by that dreaming traveller Marco Polo the 
Venetian ; or that it comprises the visionary island of 
Atlantis, described by Plato. Neither will I stop to 
investigate the heathenish assertion of Paracelsus, that- 
each hemisphere of the globe was originally furnished 
with an Adam and Eve : or the more flattering opinion 
of Dr Romayne, supported by many nameless authori- 
ties, that Adam was of the Indian race : or the startling 
conjecture of Buffon, Helve tius, and Darwin, so highly 
honourable to mankind, that the whole human species 
is accidentally descended from a remarkable family of 
the monkeys ! 

This last conjecture, I must own, came upon me 
very suddenly and very ungraciously. I have often be- 
held the clown in a pantomime, while gazing in stupid 
wonder at the extravagant gambols of a harlequin, all at 
once electrified by a sudden stroke of the wooden sword 
across his shoulders. Little did I think at such times 
that it would ever fall to my lot to be treated with equal 
discourtesy, and that while I was quietly beholding these 
grave philosophers emulating the eccentric transforma- 
tions of the hero of pantomime, they would on a sudden 
turn upon me and my readers, and with one hypothetical 
flourish metamorphose us into beasts ! I determined 
from that moment not to burn my fingers with any more 
of their theories, but content myself with detailing the 
different methods by which they transported the descen- 
dants of these ancient and respectable monkeys, to this 
great field of theoretical warfare. 

This was done either by migrations by land or trans- 
migrations by water. Thus Padre Joseph d'Acosta 
enumerates three passages by land, first by the north of 
Europe, secondly by the north of Asia, and thirdly by 
regions southward of the straits of Magellan. The 
learned Grotius marches his Norwegians by a pleasant 
I'oute across frozen rivers and arms of the sea, through 
Dd 



314 BEAUTIES OF 

Iceland, Greenland, Estotiland, and Naremberga. And 
various writers, among whom are Angleria, de Hornn, 
and BufFon, anxious for the accommodation of these 
travellers, have fastened the two continents together by 
a strong chain of deductions — by which means they 
could pass over dryshod. But should even this fail, 
Pinkerton, that industrious old gentleman, who compiles 
books, and manufactures Geographies, has constructed 
a natural bridge of ice, from continent to continent, at 
the distance of four or five miles from Behring's straits, 
for which he is entitled to the grateful thanks of all the 
wandering aborigines who ever did or ever will pass 
over it. 

It is an evil much to be lamented, that none of the 
worthy writers above quoted, could ever commence his 
work, without immediately declaring hostilities against 
every writer who had treated of the same subject. In 
this particular, authors may be compared to a certain 
sagacious bird, which in building its nest is sure to pull 
to pieces the nests of all the birds in its neighbourhood. 
This unhappy propensity tends grievously to impede 
the progress of sound knowledge. Theories are at best 
but brittle productions, and when once committed to 
the stream, they should take care that like the notable 
pots which were fellow voyagers, they do not crack each 
other. 

For my part, when I beheld the sages I have quoted 
gravely accounting for unaccountable things, and dis- 
coursing thus wisely about matters for ever hidden from 
their eyes, like a blind man describing the glories of 
light, and the beauty and harmony of colours, I fell 
back in astonishment at the amazing extent of human 
ingenuity. 

If, cried I to myself, these learned men can weave 
whole systems out of nothing, what would be their pro- 
ductions were they furnished with substantial materials 
— if they can argue and dispute thus ingeniously about 
subjects beyond their knowledge, what would be the 
profundity of their observations, did they but know what 
they were talking about ! Should old Rhadamanthus, 



WASHINGTON IRVING. 315 

when he comes to decide upon their conduct while on 
earth, have the least idea of the usefulness of their 
labours, he will undoubtedly class them with those 
notorious wise men of Gotham, who milked a bull, 
twisted a rope of sand, and wove a velvet purse from a 
sows ear. 

My chief surprise is, that among the many writers I 
have noticed, no one has attempted to prove that this 
country was peopled from the moon- — or that the first 
inhabitants floated hither on islands of ice, as white 
bears cruise about the northern oceans — or that they 
were conveyed hither by balloons, as modern aeronauts 
pass from Dover to Calais — or by witchcraft, as Simon 
Magus posted among the stars — or after the manner of 
the renowned Scythian Abaris, who, like the New- 
England witches on full-blooded broomsticks, made 
most unheard-of journeys on the back of a golden arrow, 
given him by the Hyperborean Apollo. 

But there is still one mode left by which this country 
could have been peopled, which I have reserved for the 
last, because I consider it worth all the rest ; it is — by 
accident ! Speaking of the islands of Solomon, New- 
Guinea, and New- Holland, the profound father Char- 
levoix observes, " in fine, all these countries are peo- 
pled, and it is possible, some have been so by accident. 
Now if it could have happened in that manner, why 
might it not have been at the same time, and by the same 
means, with the other parts of the globe ?" This inge- 
nious mode of deducing certain conclusions from pos- 
sible premises, is an improvement on syllogistic skill, 
and proves the good father superior even to Archimedes, 
for he can turn the world without any thing to rest his 
lever upon. It is only surpassed by the dexterity with 
which the sturdy old Jesuit, in another place, cuts the 
gordian knot — " Nothing," says he, " is more easy. The 
inhabitants of both hemispheres are certainly the de- 
scendants of the same father. The common father of 
mankind received an express order from Heaven to peo- 
ple the world, and accordingly it has been peopled. To 
bring this about, it was necessary to overcome all diffi- 



316 BEAUTIES OF WASHINGTON IRVING* 

culties in the way, and they have also been overcome P f 
Pious Logician ! How does he put all the herd of la^ 
borious theorists to the blush, by explaining in five words, 
what it has cost them volumes to prove they knew 
nothing about. 

They have long been picking at the lock, and fretting 
at the latch, but the honest father at once unlocks the 
door by bursting it open, and when he has it once ajar, 
he is at full liberty to pour in as many nations as he 
pleases. This proves to a demonstration that a little 
piety is better than a cart-load of philosophy, and is a 
practical illustration of that scriptural promise — " By 
faith ye shall move mountains. " 

From all the authorities here quoted, and a variety of 
others which I have consulted, but which are omitted 
through fear of fatiguing the unlearned reader — I can 
only draw the following conclusion, which, luckily how- 
ever, are sufficient for my purpose — First, That this 
part of the world has actually been peopled ( Q. E. D.) ; 
to support which we have living proofs in the numerous 
tribes of Indians that inhabit it. Secondly, that it has 
been peopled in five hundred different ways, as proved 
by a cloud of authors, who, from the positiveness of their 
assertions, seem to have been eye-witness to the fact — 
Thirdly, That the people of this country had a variety 
of fathers, which as it may not be thought much to their 
credit by the common run of readers, the less we say on 
the subject the better. The question, therefore, I trust 
is for ever at rest. 



ROBERT MALCOLM, PRINTER. 



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